Only Human
by xSymnia
Summary: "Perfection, that's what he called himself." James Potter: Chaser, playboy, public relations nightmare. If Lily Evans can survive just one year as his publicist, she'll be rocketed into the Hall of Fame. But it won't be easy, nor will it be pleasant. AU.
1. A Bad Start

**PROLOGUE: A Bad Start to an Impossible Day**

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**7:15 am. Day One Hundred and Twenty-Six of official unemployment. Current mood: sleepy.**

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Lily needed coffee. In the Muggle world, finding a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino at this hour would be as easy as walking to the coffee shop around the corner. She would have been able to pick up some nice pastry breakfast, perhaps a croissant, before heading off to whatever Muggle job she would do. This would take much longer to do because she wouldn't be able to apparate. Then, arriving at her workplace, she would survive the day, before coming home exhausted, sit down in front of the television and watch a soap opera. But this was the magical world; so the same bizarre reasoning that explained why her apartment - a spacious two-storey complex that should be, by all the Muggle laws of physics, the size of a broom closet – was so big, finding a shop that sold Muggle foods such as a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino was impossible.

In this magical world, or more appropriately, this magical _part_ of the world, she had neither a job nor a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino to look forward to. No, in the magical world, it didn't matter that she was top of her year at Hogwarts. It didn't matter that she got all "Outstanding" in her N.E.W.T.s, or that she was Head Girl with consistently brilliant recommendations from her professors. No, in the magical world's public relations sector, she was the last person that would be hired. No contacts, no connections, no experience, no double-strength skim mocha cappuccino. She was going nowhere.

Lily buried her face underneath her bedclothes. It was the end of blazing August, the summer after her graduation; a voice inside her was scolding her for not partying the nights away and enjoying the three-month-long excuse not to work, as the majority of her peers certainly were. She'd wasted it complaining about how no PR agency would hire her. Soon, fifteen minutes turned into an hour, one hour into two. Her enchanted alarm clock promptly told her off for sleeping in when she asked for the time a few hours later. What did it matter? She had nowhere she had to be. Finally succumbing to that inner voice yelling at her to do something productive, Lily rolled out of bed, rubbing her eyes and muttering obscenities about the public relations sector's bosses while she stumbled to the kitchen.

The kitchen was small compared to the rest of the apartment, very different to what Lily expected hers to look like when she was younger. Instead of Muggle 'life-made-easier' appliances lining the benches, there was a large sink with a dirty cauldron inside it and several bottles of peculiar-looking ingredients scattered across them. The curtains covering the window above the sink were a strange shape with large portions clipped upwards rather than down, so as to not catch fire from potion experiments again. A fire-engine red fridge stood next to the bench – the only remnant from Lily's pre-magical childhood daydreams that made it to reality – and it was empty, as she suspected. She had procrastinated going shopping for quite a few days already. Perhaps it would be worth it to trek into Muggleland and buy a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino.

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**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. **

_Criticism is accepted and appreciated. Please, please review._

_I do promise that chapters will be much longer than this, it really does pain me to write something so short, but it had to be done._

_See you next time,_

_-xSymnia_


	2. The Devil

**CHAPTER ONE: Does the Devil Wear Purple Lipstick?**

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**1:31 pm. Day One Hundred and Twenty-Nine of official unemployment. Current mood: suddenly lost her appetite. **

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Izzy Skeptor loved business dining. She would never have to pay for such a delicious (and expensive) meal when she was in the presence of pseudo-royalty, which was _always_. The elite thought they were the best, so they lived the best, shopped the best and ate the best. Oh, she loved her job very much. But the one thing she loved even more, judging from how her face instantly lit up when it arrived from the kitchen, was Suzie's Special Bertie Botts Every Flavour Milkshake.

Lily hated the drink. If it weren't bad enough not knowing what dangers lay waiting in that glass, drinking one and discovering it was earwax or fingernail flavoured would trump that and leave you scarred for life. She herself had not touched one since her second year at Hogwarts, after a particularly bad spoilt-meat incident. But if putting aside her fears and distaste for one afternoon was what had to be done to convince Izzy Skeptor to take time out of her busy, busy schedule, then it may be worth it. If only Lily had foreseen what would come out of that day, but then again, Divination was a load of rubbish.

The only reason Izzy Skeptor liked the damn things was because she'd never, ever gotten the foul, tofu flavoured one. Lily tried not to retch up her lunch as she spat the obscenity into her napkin. Across from her, Izzy tried to put on a sympathetic expression. Clearly, the woman had never had the same bad luck to sympathise with.

"That's such bad luck, Lily. I mean, the worst I've ever gotten was a creaming soda flavour. It was far too frothy, went all over my new shirt, which meant that I needed to go and buy a nice brand new one before my next meeting; you see the stain wouldn't come out. Some Un-Removable-Liquid enchantment, I don't know, but I got this really nice new cashmere….."

Izzy Skeptor was also the one witch to go to if you needed an interview. Job interviews, a meeting with the Minister of Magic, a "run-in" with a high-profile publisher, Izzy could get it for you. Too bad that you couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"…and so at my meeting, which I just managed to get to on time after that _whole _thing, I won the praise of the Senior Undersecretary after all. Real nice you know, reminds me of George….was that his name?...George, the guy I dated back in Hogwarts days."

Izzy's high-pitched laughter at her hilarious story seemed like the right time to turn the conversation.

"I was wondering if your firm had any internships open." This grabbed her attention. Lily watched in disgust as she took another long sip of her strawberry-and-cream flavoured milkshake and processed what Lily had just said. Once thing that she had noted over several lunches with her "friend-in-the-business" Izzy Skeptor, was that not running the conversation was foreign to the woman, about as foreign as the Muggle world in Australia.

"You know," she said eventually, lowering her voice to a whisper, as if it were top-secret, and leaning forward across the table, "the last spot was _just_ taken up. It was the highest one, the one that Alison took up, with Harvey, you know, the head. I think Muggles call them the UFO?"

"CEO." Lily corrected, a force of habit ever since she first stepped foot into the magical world. Izzy ignored her correction and flipped a lock of chocolate-brown hair away from her face, taking another sip of her milkshake. Something that she said quipped at Lily "Who is Alison?"

Izzy pursed her plump lips, a bizarre purple colour, and set her glass back onto the table, "Alison Stern, you know, James Potter's publicist." She explained slowly, as if Lily were an idiot not to recognise the single name, "Well, his _former_ one now, she quit last week, and good old Harvey offered her a senior internship with us. He said something like 'nine months with that Potter is like three years of internship at the Prophet'. So now she's working with Harvey, she looks set to become a full-time publicist with the firm. If only _I'd _worked for Potter back in my good years, perhaps _I'd _be a full-time publicist when I was only twenty-six, but _no_, here I am, Merlin knows how old, and I never got that special-"

"Twenty-six?" Lily repeated in disbelief, cutting across Izzy. The name sounded familiar to her ears now, and she knew why. Alison Stern was few years her senior at Hogwarts, the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team during Lily's first year. She was set to become an Auror, so what in Merlin's name was she doing working for James Potter? "She's only twenty-nine?"

"Oh, good, you see my point." Izzy stated, her voice cool after being cut off. She began to stir her milkshake again, her purple-fingernailed hand tensed around the spoon as if it would keep her alive, "Yes, the girl is only twenty-six. Just starting out in the industry only year ago, now suddenly she's ready for her portrait to be put in the Hall of Fame."

"And Potter did that for her?" Lily was stunned. Were she and Izzy discussing the same James Potter?

Izzy's lips pursed together again. "Lily, have you been in Azkaban?" she asked incredulously, "He did _nothing_ for her! All he's done in the last year is get drunk and sleep with more women than I care to think about. And one of 'em was definitely Alison. No, she spent most of her time as his publicist trying to make out that he was depressed or suicidal or something so the press would stay away from him as if he had spattergroit. Too bad that his little antics continued to make the front page of the _Prophet_!"

Ah, _that _sounded like the Potter she knew. Across the table, Izzy abruptly stopped stirring. Something appeared to 'click', everything matched up.

"You want me to get you an interview for you, don't you?"

Lily was taken aback, her mouth gaped open somewhere in between surprise and contempt.

"No! Why would I want to work for Potter?" Izzy leant back in her chair, arms crossed and a self-satisfied smile upon her lips.

"You don't. But you want what Alison got." Lily sent a death glare at her "friend-in-the-business", "I'll get you that interview. So when you survive a year and become the most-asked-for publicist around, you'll thank me, your best friend Izzy Skeptor, the one who mentored you all the way from Hogwarts, for you amazing career." Izzy grinned at her, but her eyes could rival a demon's.

Lily was sure that she'd just sold her soul to the devil, and it wasn't even for a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino.

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**9:40 am. Day One Hundred and Thirty-One of official unemployment. Current mood: nonchalant. **

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Lily sat perched on a rather uncomfortable rickety wooden stool, waiting for her interviewer to return from a "butterbeer break". The office was enormous, and if it abided by Muggle laws of physics, impossible, since it appeared to sit atop the clouds overlooking Diagon Alley. With a lone desk in the middle, several lounges around the edges of the room and one wall of plate glass with a spectacular view, it was hard for Lily to imagine that Alison Stern had actually run business here. That _she _would run business here when she got the job. But she didn't actually want to work for Potter would she? That _is_ what the job would entail, actually having to communicate with him, which meant talking to him, looking at him, smelling the alcohol on his breath, breaking him out of Magical Law Enforcement custody?

The door to her right opened and Alison Stern returned to the office, tip-toeing to her desk in an awkward set of high-heels. She was taller and skinnier than Lily remembered her, but perhaps that was just the heels. Her hair was still an unnatural platinum-blonde, pulled into a tidy, no-nonsense ponytail by a green ribbon. She sat down without a word and lifted a roll of parchment and a Quick-Quotes Quill out of her desk drawer. She evidently did not have the same nostalgia as Lily. The red quill apparently was trained to stare interviewees down, as if it would peck them to death if anything went wrong. Lily found that it was easiest to just gaze past Alison Stern and her quill, her eyes trained on what Muggles called a bulletin board on the opposite wall.

"Interviewer: Ms. Alison Stern, senior intern of Rancorn Public Firm. Interviewee: Miss Lily Evans, candidate number five." Alison Stern's voice was high and clear, but something told Lily she wanted to get away from her and/or the office as soon as possible. The quill beside her obediently scribbled down the conversation, the sound of ink on parchment was louder than Lily had ever heard it, even during the deathly-quiet N.E.W.T. examinations.

"Have you had any experience in public relations before?" There was no welcome, no "how are you?", no "would you like a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino?" It was straight down to business, and Lily was oddly perturbed.

"No."

"Have you worked with any professional Quidditch player before?"

"No."

"Are you attracted to Mr. Potter?"

"N-what?"

"He will be your boss if you get this job. Are you attracted to him?" Alison Stern repeated, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The two locked eyes. What was wrong with this girl?

"No!" Lily exclaimed, sitting up straighter and gaping at her, "How is that appropriate?" Alison Stern ignored her comment and continued, but Lily could see a vein starting to show in her neck.

"Are you taken, married or divorced?" Again with the strange questions, like they were part of a standard job interview. This was starting to sound very much like James Potter; Chaser, playboy, inappropriate bastard. Lily asked a question of her own.

"Did Potter set these questions?" The girl across from her only raised a blonde eyebrow.

"Please answer the question. Are you taken, married or divorced?"

"This interview is over." Lily said abruptly, standing and turning squarely on her heel. Alison Stern did not reply, she did not do anything; she did not try to stop her. Lily slammed the door for good measure; _that _would send a message to the idiot who set those stupid questions.

It was only when she had reached the lobby on the ground floor that what she had just done caught up with her. Lily had now officially screwed that up; there was no way she would get that job now. She was back to square one. No job, no contacts, no interviews, no experience. She had blown away all her chances. What was she to do now? Go back to her apartment and cry her eyes out? Find some other job until she could figure out what to do? There were certainly other jobs in her chosen field out there, right? It wasn't like Potter was the godsend and she'd decided against destiny? But there was no such thing as destiny. Divination was a fraudulent subject.

Damn, she needed a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino.

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**5:15 pm. Day One Hundred and Thirty-One of official unemployment. Current mood: craving peace.**

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"…six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty."

Lily stopped counting aloud and removed the glass stirrer from the cauldron. Her Draught of Peace had to simmer for twelve minutes before she could add in the powdered moonstone. Terrific, twelve more minutes of anxiety that even a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino couldn't fix. Leaving the cauldron bubbling away on the bench, she retreated to the kitchen table, where a mess of old editions of the _Daily Prophet_ sat waiting for her. The cover of Monday's edition read '_Puddlemere United win 470-80. New record!_'. Saturday last week read '_Muggles Discover Run-Away Broomstick_'.

A strange sound came from the window. Lily spun around to spy a chestnut-coloured owl with hilariously large ears balanced on her windowsill, a small envelope clamped neatly in its beak. It hooted inquisitively when she took the letter and appeared to smile before it fluttered off. Lily was being ridiculous. Owls could not smile. She shook her head and ripped open the letter.

_Dear Miss Evans,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected for the position as Mr. James Potter's, Chaser of the Puddlemere United Quidditch Team, official publicist._

_Congratulations and good luck._

_Sincerely, _

_Alison Stern._

The Draught of Peace boiled over as Lily comprehended that her deal with the devil had been delivered. Now hell had actually broken loose.

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**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated. Thank you to those who have reviewed and you silent alerters and favers. I really appreciate it._

_-xSymnia_


	3. Judging A Book

**CHAPTER TWO: Don't Judge a Book by Its Cover, That's what The Blurb Is For**

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**8:56 am. Day One of official employment. Current mood: ambitious.**

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This was it. This was Lily's chance to soar into the public relations Hall of Fame, to socialize with the best of the best, _become_ the best of the best, and all she had to do was survive a year with the most scandalous man in the world. This would be easy, she told herself. Potter couldn't possibly be as bad as she thought; one man could not cause all that scandal, all that trouble, all that reputation. Lily was going to be remembered as the woman who survived the wrath of James Potter, Chaser. She was going to get that portrait in the Hall of Fame.

She had inherited Alison Stern's office, that was no surprise. She wasn't complaining, it was a beautiful office, one that made her unsure of her ability to multitask – that is, enjoy the view and work efficiently. She would be working hard as Potter's publicist, there was no denying that. It was infamous for its long hours, and huge challenges. Lily was caught off-guard to see James lounging quite contentedly in her office chair with his feet propped up on her desk, helping himself to a box of chocolates that was clearly meant for her. She closed the door and opened her mouth to say something witty, something to startle him just as he had done to her, but nothing came. From her desk chair, which now had only two legs touching the floor, Potter gave a small wave before popping the last caramel-coated hazelnut, her favourite kind of chocolate, into his mouth. Lily shook her head, trying to make sense of what was happening.

James Potter was here. He was in her office. He was early. He was sober, dressed respectably, and clearly had been waiting for some time. She didn't even smell alcohol. Was this the same man she had agreed to work for? The man who was never seen without a different buxom bimbo attached to his arm and/or a Firewhiskey in hand? The man who was quoted in yesterday's paper saying "I'm not sure what happened really, I was totally smashed". Potter cocked his head, gave Lily what she was sure he thought was his most charming smile, and motioned her to sit down in the chair opposite him, the one she had occupied during the interview. It took a moment for Lily to compose herself.

"That is my chair." An inquisitive expression crossed the man's face. He was sizing her up, just as she was doing to him. She felt his eyes on her, studying and judging the way the dressed, as if it would tell him everything he needed to know. When she was sure he was about to criticize her wardrobe or make some inappropriate comment about women and heels, he surprised her by standing up graciously and offering her the seat he had just vacated. Lily furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, but took the offer. What in Merlin's name was going on? Was she dreaming? Was she hallucinating? Perhaps she was in the medical centre right now, in a state of shock after meeting the real James Potter, her mind now blocking the traumatic event and replacing it with a fantasy one.

That sat in silence for a while, James chewing the caramel-coated hazelnut chocolate cheerfully and Lily organising her desk into a state she could deal with. Inbox on the left, outbox on the right. Double-strength skim mocha cappuccino front and centre.

"You're late, you know. Your owl clearly said five to nine, so I helped myself to those chocolates Alison left while I waited. They're brilliant really, she makes them herself. One of her many talents." He smiled again; amused at Lily's perplexed expression. She shook her head again.

"I'm sorry. I was expecting you to be more…uh…"

"Drunk? Inebriated? Hung-over? I get a lot of that." He ran a hand through his hair and messed it up, not that it could get any more knotty or chaotic than it already was, "Sorry to disappoint you Evans, but I'm just your average gorgeous, enchanting Quidditch player."

Ah, that sounded more like it.

"Speaking of which, what will your angle be, Evans? Are you going to do an Alison and get me to party every night? Because as much fun as that is, I really can't handle a hangover this close to a championship game. It'll kill me, and then you", James said, pointing at Lily with an oversized grin on his face, "will be responsible for the death of Puddlemere's best Chaser."

James jumped to his feet and swiped another chocolate from the open box on the desk, moving away to stare out over the crowded Diagon Alley. Lily was again puzzled.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"You really _are_ just starting out, aren't you Evans? What angle are you going to use on me? How are you going to present me to the press?" The two locked eyes.

"I'm supposed to make you look good, Potter. I have to show the magical world that you're the kind of person that is respectable. That kids can look up to. That companies are willing to sponsor."

"Ah." he teased, spinning around to face Lily with all the grace of a dancer, "What's the fun in that?"

Everything suddenly fell into place. Potter's constant front page headlines, his endless press conferences and meetings with journalists, his reputation, that despicable reputation. James Potter had only been in the public's eye for nine months, the nine months he had Alison Stern working as his publicist. He had become recognisable as the scandalous member of Puddlemere United, the bad boy of the group. Alison Stern had achieved an almost impossible goal; making a client famous for being infamous. And it was now Lily's choice to either turn that back around - another almost impossible challenge - or go along with it, which would go against every single rule she'd heard of in the PR world.

James approached Lily, standing so close to her that she could smell his cologne, at least she thought it was cologne, nobody could ever spend so much time around a Quidditch grounds to possibly smell like it. He towered over her, grinning like a Kneazle who had just swallowed the cream.

"So what will it be Evans? Will you join us on the dark side?"

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**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Thank you so much for all the feedback. I really appreciate you reviewers__, silent __favers and alerters._

_Please do take the time to review, constructive criticism is welcomed._

_-xSymnia_


	4. The Games

**CHAPTER THREE: Let the Games Begin

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**

**9:56 pm. Day Three of official employment. Current mood: strangely impressed.

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**

"The Falmouth Falcons are in for it. Their dirty plays would be no match for us, come Sunday in three weeks time. Let those idiot Beaters try to knock Puddlemere out, but they won't be able to catch us. Let their Keeper fruitlessly attempt to block our goals, there's no point in even trying. The League Cup may as well have our names charmed onto it already, my friends. They may as well hand it over now!"

James' impressively delivered speech was followed by a roar from his teammates and a series of high-fives. Watching over from the stands like a mother would a toddler; Lily found it hilarious to watch a group of supposedly professional Quidditch players act like teenagers. It reminded her so much of Gryffindor Tower the night before a match. How no one got any sleep, either because they were too excited or they were busy cheering and helping themselves to some smuggled Firewhiskey. No wonder they lost so many matches to Slytherin.

How did James Potter manage to play Quidditch for six hours straight and then get bored with one measly hour of paperwork? Couldn't he sit still for longer than a minute? How did he survive flying around a stadium in circles for hours without getting sick? How did he survive flying, for one thing?

Lily sighed and went back to her paperwork. She had insisted on coming out and accompanying James to his Quidditch practice, sure that one moment of unsupervised play-time would result in drunken partying and another arrest. She hadn't started trusting him yet. Every time she considered doing so, she reminded herself that he stole her caramel-coated hazelnut chocolates. That sort of thing doesn't go unnoticed.

She still had no idea where she was going with this. With James, Alison had left her with the hardest possible job in the field, cold turkey. If she was going to turn the man into some sort of saint, she would have to do it gradually. For the magical world to accept that he'd changed would take months, possibly even years. She'd start off with booking him into magical rehabilitation. She'd schedule press conferences where he publically apologises for his actions – not that he had never done that before – and set up interviews with reporters from the _Daily Prophet _and _Witch Weekly_ where he'd give an exclusive insight into his life and the horror it has become. Alternatively, she could just leave him be. Let him party and drink, do whatever he did before. It would be easier, almost guarantee her some sort of internship if it looked like she tried. Perhaps she could even join….

"Oi! Evans!"

Lily had barely enough time to glance in the direction the noise came from. Her paperwork all but exploded out of her hands as James Potter swooped over her head at full speed, quickly followed by the rest of his stupid team. One by one they flew over her, almost knocking her out, before showing off some sort of aerial trick and filing into line again. There were more cheers, high-fives and howling at the moon. Merlin, what - were they, werewolves?

The clock hit ten in the middle of their ritual howling and like small children, they obediently left the airspace and returned to the changerooms on the top floor of the stadium.

"Evans!"

The Puddlemere Captain floated a few feet above her, the same smart-arse grin on his face as a couple of days before. The grin he'd worn when he stole her caramel-coated hazelnut chocolates. Lily looked down and hastily pulled her jacket across her, blocking his view of her chest. Her face reddened to rival her hair.

"Shall we do dinner next?"

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**10:35 pm. Day Three of official employment. Current mood: suspicious.

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**

"So you still haven't figured something out yet? I must say, that's very sloppy Evans. Three days and not a single thing done? I may have to cut your pay."

James laughed at his hilarious joke and helped himself to another forkful of a medium-rare steak, ignoring the sauce that splashed back onto his plate. Lily stared back at him, unsure of what to think of the situation. When he had said he would take her out for dinner, Lily had been expecting some sort of Muggle pub or the Leaky Cauldron, not the magical equivalent of Restaurant Gordon Ramsey. It was beautiful really, reminiscent of the Hogwarts Great Hall. There were chandeliers everywhere, floating candles and plates full of food zooming from the kitchen to tables spread across the room. She felt out of place in her blouse and skirt amongst all the expensive silk robes of the other witches and wizards in the restaurant. How on earth did Potter get a table here? Bribe the owner? Blackmail the chef? Sleep with the maitre d'?

Lily mentally backpedaled and returned to her bouillabaisse. On second thought, she'd rather not question it.

"You did well today, with your team. I had no idea they looked up to you that much." She said, absent-mindedly stabbing a tomato with her fork. James gave her another one of his patented smiles.

"It's all good. I gave the same speech last year and….uh….well you know what happened." How could Lily not? Sirius Black, Beater for Puddlemere United, had gotten a brilliant idea two nights before the final game. He went out, got drunk, and started a pub brawl with the Montrose Magpie's Seeker, Lennox Campbell. Naturally, once the Magical Law Enforcement Squad had broken it up, he was suspended for the remainder of the season, leaving Puddlemere without their best Beater, and giving the Magpies the League Cup for the second year in a row. It was remembered as Puddlemere's darkest hour, a title hard to achieve with James Potter as captain.

"I clearly remember the headline of the _Prophet_. _'Magpies Make A Splash at Puddlemere Game'._" Whether she liked the sport or not, it was hard for Lily not hear about every Quidditch victory or loss in her line of work. Everyone knew everyone else, and there was always a Quidditch fan inside one of them. Even she, who really only had Izzy Skeptor, was up-to-date with the latest news. She liked to compare the wizarding world's love for Quidditch to Muggles' obsession with football.

"I never let Sirius live that one down, you know. I never let him near a Firewhiskey for about a month before a match." James took a swig of butterbeer from his glass, "He may be my best mate, but he's completely mad when he's drunk!"

"I get the impression you are too." Lily muttered under her breath, covering up with a sip of wine.

James Potter could be charming when he wanted to be, Lily decided when she returned to her apartment sometime in the early morning. Where was that man she went to dinner with hiding when he went out to party and drink? Where was that man when he almost knocked her out on the Quidditch pitch earlier that evening? There was definitely more to James Potter, Chaser than met the eye, though Lily wasn't sure which side was the real one.

* * *

**9:03 am. Day Six of official employment. Current mood: cheerful.

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**

Six days into official employment, Lily was beginning to relax. What was there to think about really? She had a beautiful office, a decent-paying job for a decent, if childish man. She could have all the double-strength skim mocha cappuccinos and caramel coated hazelnut chocolates she wanted. Just by looking like she was trying, she was practically guaranteed some sort of job after a year here.

The one thing she needed to do was put a better locking charm on her door.

Stretched out in her desk chair, touching up her makeup to suit the lighting of the sky office, sat Izzy Skeptor. She smirked, snapped her mirror shut and swiveled around to face Lily.

"Nice office." She greeted with a purple framed smile, "Reminds me of my old one down at Rancorn before I got promoted. Of course, my one now is much larger. You could play Quidditch in it if you wanted, as dear Harvey pointed out to me when I first got it. Stage a mock match for a photoshoot or something, he suggested. Naturally, I took the idea and now, look! My shoot is going to be used on next week's _Witch Weekly_! Though of course, _you_ would know all about _Witch Weekly_ wouldn't you, Lily? Being on this edition's cover and all with one James Potter. Really, what happened to the Lily I was talking to last week, the one repulsed by the man? Fallen for his drunken charms have we?"

Nice to see you too, Izzy. Lily shut the door behind her and stared at her friend, mouth ajar in confusion.

"I-I'm sorry, what?"

Izzy spared her another lecture and conjured a copy of the familiar magazine into Lily's hands. Lily felt her stomach drop. Smack bang on the front cover of _Witch Weekly_ was a photo of her and Potter, laughing over dinner together. It must have been taken the night of his Quidditch practice, the night they'd finally started getting along. The title, written in a disgusting pink colour, read _'Has James Potter found a new woman? Read inside for the full story on his newfound romance'_. Lily dropped the magazine on the desk, shocked.

"What is this?" She asked, looking back and forth between the accusing cover and the devil with purple lipstick.

"I thought you should know, before it gets ugly" What was this? Izzy Skeptor, the woman who never had nothing to do and nowhere to be, had come up to see her on a mid-week morning with this? Why not send an owl, or a box of chocolates as comfort food? Not even a Bertie Bott's Milkshake to go?

"Why are you here?" Izzy turned away to face the window, but Lily saw the glint of delight in her eye, the one that preceded a "Skeptor rant".

"Well, I was on my way to talk to Harvey about a possible promotion. Apparently Miss Stern is in need of a mentor or something, I don't know, but it pays brilliantly, and I need some new dress robes since my idiot husband accidentally set them on fire last week. So, on my way, I overhear these two interns, you probably know them from Hogwarts, Jessica Breeze and Gretchen Howers, very nice young girls, discussing one Mr. James Potter, captain of the Puddlemere United team. Now with you as his new publicist I said to myself 'oh, what has my dear Lily cooked up now?' - expecting some sort of amazing transformation from the man. I ask to see the magazine they're sharing. And you know what I saw? This rather stunning picture of you and Mr. James Potter at that classy restaurant on Fifth Street! Now, that caption is rather confronting, don't you think? And I personally didn't believe it at the time, but the girls filled me in, and you know what? You two are destined for this year's most scandalous couple!"

Izzy's speech was having the impact she had intended. Lily slowly sat down in her chair, her expression evolving from shocked to horrified to outright annoyed. By the end of it, the poor girl had her head on her desk, moaning about some Muggle drink. The devil took pity, lightly patting her head, light enough to make sure she could clear away if it suddenly burst into flames.

"I'm terribly sorry Lily, to leave you like this, but I must run. I have a press conference in half an hour and I'm ninety percent sure that dear Peter has forgotten about it. Wish me luck!" There was a sharp _crack_, and in an instant Izzy was gone. Lily hit her head against the desk one more time for good measure.

* * *

**9:30 am. Day Six of official employment. Day One of apparent relationship. Current mood: sure something bad is about to happen. Oh wait, it already has.

* * *

**

James Potter lived in the spacious top flat of an apartment block bordering a Quidditch pitch. It actually explained a lot about the man, but Lily wasn't considering that. He answered at the third knock.

"Evans! What a surprise. I'm afraid I haven't fireproofed the flat yet, but you're welcome t-" Lily pushed past him. James raised his eyebrows, but closed the door behind her and motioned for her to take a seat on one of the lounges. She didn't do so, instead pulling out the copy of _Witch Weekly_ from her bag and presenting it to him. The man remained unfazed.

"Huh, they've gotten quicker at it. Took 'em a couple of weeks to report Alison as my girlfriend." He took the pink magazine from Lily's hands and dropped it carelessly on the dragonhide rug, waltzing right past her to the kitchen. Lily was again rendered speechless. She'd expected more of a reaction, even if it were a smirk and a "well it was inevitable, right?"

"You-you knew about this?" She questioned incredulously, following him through the apartment. James shrugged and brought a mug of tea over to her, again gesturing for her to sit down. How could he be so composed? Ignore it and offer her tea like any other day? Is he actually clinically insane?

"Not exactly, but it isn't the first time I've been accused of sleeping with someone." He admitted with a grin and a rather proud tone. Lily reluctantly took the mug and sipped, "Careful, your hair might heat it and burn it." He added. She ignored him.

"I didn't see anyone with a camera."

"I didn't either. They hide them, in glasses and menus and candles."

The two sat in silence for a while. James was truly amazed that her hair didn't set the kitchen on fire, the way it seemed to be radiating off heat. Lily meanwhile, was trying to pull herself back together. No matter how nice the tea was, she really needed a Draught of Peace until she could relax again. That or a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino.

"We'll have to use this to our advantage." She announced eventually, raising her head to look Potter in the eye. The single term that was native to both of their ears seemed to pike his interest, "What would the public do when they see their favourite rebel Quidditch captain's new girlfriend try to whip him into shape? Of course, that would require some brilliant charm on your side and some putting aside of dignity on mine." James took a moment to consider her proposition; Lily could practically hear the cogs and wheels spinning around inside his head. It was amazing that they were loud enough to surpass his ego.

"That is an excellent game plan Evans. Very sneaky." A smirk crept onto Lily's face, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

Their deal was set with a toast.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

_I love you guys so much. Thank you all for the alerts and faves and reviews._

_Remember that constructive criticism is always appreciated._

_Until next time,  
_

_-xSymnia  
_


	5. Problem Child

**CHAPTER FOUR: Dealing with the Problem Child

* * *

**

**5:40 am. Day Sixteen with Evans. Current objective: the Filibuster plan.

* * *

**

Everything was set, the good Doctor Filibuster never failed to impress.

James collapsed into the fold-out chair next to Sirius, dropping his broomstick unceremoniously onto the grass beside him. He sat back into the chair, lacing his hands behind his head and admiring their handiwork through half-shut eyes and misted glasses. The setting up of this ingenious plan had taken much longer than expected. Dr. Filibuster's Wet-Start No-Heat Fireworks required more than a levitating charm and good aim to set off as they had quickly found out. Managing to hit the damn things with _Aguamenti _whilst riding full-speed on a broomstick, avoiding oncoming Bludgers and also trying to appear inconspicuous to the crowd and Quidditch officials, required more practice than either he or Sirius had anticipated. But it would all be worth it, come tonight's Quidditch practice. Their game against Falmouth would be child's play after a round with a few hundred wet-start fireworks.

Sirius propped his feet up on the now-empty Dr. Filibuster box and stretched out in his own chair, a confident smirk playing on his lips. It had been his idea originally, to get Puddlemere pumped for the upcoming game, have them prepared for any and all the dirty tricks that Falmouth was sure to play in the coming week's match. Sirius was certainly impressed with his mate's cunning when James suggested Dr. Filibuster's recipe. The one that had no chance of being inadvertently set off by his girlfriend. Speaking of which, he had yet to meet this new bird of James', which was odd, as he had usually previously dated them himself. James had been particularly secretive with this one ever since that article in _Witch Weekly_. Who was she, the Minister's underage daughter? A dark witch? A vampire? A werewolf, or even worse, a journalist? This one was obviously high-maintenance.

"We'll be legends James, well, more than we already are." Sirius copied James' position and stared up into the stadium's airspace. Tiny specks of colour, where the fireworks were strategically hidden, shone in the dark of the arena. The stars above reminded Sirius of the reporter's cameras which were sure to be shooting at them after their inevitable victory. James only chuckled in reply.

"Black and Potter. Beater and Chaser. The men who got Puddlemere to their biggest win in decades!" he continued, shouting out at the top of his voice to the empty stadium.

"Especially after the disaster of last year!" James added, equally as loud, trying to hold back giggles. Sirius shot him a dirty look, causing James to writhe in hysterical laughter. It took some time to calm down, as a simple glance at the now-haughty best friend stirred up another fit of giggles.

It was almost six when the two trespassers began to pack up. Sirius rolled his eyes at his idiot mate, the one who was snickering at the memory of last year whilst charming the cardboard box to fly its own way to a Muggle dumpster nearby. Oh yes, this was going to be a training session that Puddlemere would never forget, the one that future teams would aspire to live up to, the one that would go down in _A History of Magic_ to be forever remembered.

James picked up his Nimbus 1001 and Muggle fold-out chair, waving goodbye to his partner-in-crime. He was ready for the enchanted mug of tea waiting for him at home, one charmed with an Energy-Increasing spell to get him through the day. Adrenaline for the approaching training session would only get him through so many hours.

"Say, am I gonna meet this bird of yours sometime?" Sirius called after him, only seconds before he apparated. James halted and turned, sizing up Sirius' request. After a short moment, his jaw unclenched and a winning smile replaced his confused frown.

"Maybe. I gotta make sure she's completely infatuated with me before she's anywhere near _you_." His comment was acknowledged by a good-natured laugh.

"I _do _have that appeal, don't I?" Sirius ran a hand through his long hair and lifted his chin. He gazed out into the distant black of the unlit Quidditch pitch, a solemn and tragic expression upon his face, a winner with the ladies. James shook his head in amusement and again turned away. Sirius yelled after him once more.

"What's her name?"

"Lily. Lovely Lily." James vanished in an instant.

* * *

**4:13 pm. Day Sixteen of official employment. Current mood: more valiant than usual. Strange.

* * *

**

For the first time in weeks, everything was running smoothly.

The mystery of James Potter's new girlfriend had done wonders for his reputation. There were no more articles in _Rumours! _about his uncontrollable behavior, no damaging headlines in the _Prophet_, only discussion on this new mate of his. A dozen beautiful red-headed witches graced the cover of _Witch Weekly_, all chief suspects in the Potter case. Riker Walkey, a singer from Kent, Vanessa Aubel, a writer for a French magazine and Gretchen Howers, a former classmate of Lily's had all been among the listed possibilities. Evidently, the magical world was greatly intrigued by the unseen, unheard of, soon-to-be "Mrs. Potter". Lily couldn't help but feel spirited; she was doing just brilliantly. In her case, the Muggle proverb "all publicity is good publicity" had come to her in the best way. A portrait in the Hall of Fame was sure to be hers after all this.

The boys were changing into Quidditch robes, prepping themselves for the following six hours of practice. Even Lily, practically a Quidditch virgin, knew that Puddlemere would require Merlin knew how much groundwork to overcome the Falmouth Falcons. Their victory would certainly be worth all the hard work.

Lily settled herself into her usual spot in the stands; bottom floor, front row. Terrible position for watching games, best seat in the house for avoiding Bludgers, flyaway Quaffles, and annoying teenaged Quidditch players. There was paperwork to be filed and forms to be signed, but she still wasn't sure about leaving her client alone for six hours. Overprotective some may call it, Lily thought of it as bodyguarding. She was guarding James from doing something idiotic. She was only two signatures in when a yell came from the other side of the Quidditch pitch.

Peter Pettigrew was a wimp of a man. Proud to be known as part of the Puddlemere support team, he was far too cowardly to join the actual flying part, quite content with just being "the kid who moved the Quidditch box to the oval for practice". Lily, a fellow sport-watcher rather than doer, had always sympathized with Peter's fear of heights and flying and had often conversed with him during the lengthy practices. She would have never thought that he could run so fast.

Lily rushed to the barrier of the seating area as Peter approached. Something was wrong.

"There's someone on the oval. They're asleep." He said breathlessly, collapsing to one knee after his fifty metre dash. Lily looked over his shoulder and saw the scene for herself. There were indeed people on the base of the stadium. Very small, unmoving people. Something about that scene struck a chord in Lily. She wasn't sure if it was maternal instinct or merely common sense, but in a flash she was cradling the smaller body and Peter had rushed off to find the team's resident Healer. It was when she had moved the now awake and groaning patient that she understood the cause of his injury.

A printed logo on an out-of-place cardboard box stood out in the wet grass of the pitch.

Dr. Filibuster.

* * *

**6:30 pm. Day Sixteen with Evans. Current objective: not be set on fire.

* * *

**

Practice had been cancelled. The fireworks had been confiscated. James had been released into Evans' custody, and she was pissed.

"What, in Merlin's great name, were you thinking?" Lily continued pacing his kitchen, increasingly faster as he had noted in his silence. Her hair radiated heat, her eyes shot flames at him, "You could have gotten somebody killed!"

Nobody was supposed to get hurt; it was just a bit of fun for his fellow teammates. Sure, Quidditch was already risky enough, but avoiding fireworks on top of Bludgers and rival Beaters was merely a training experience. A _good_ training experience, one that would make them better players, better flyers. It wasn't his fault that two kids snuck into the stadium and it started raining. It wasn't his fault that that stupid Muggle contraption called cardboard wasn't waterproof. It wasn't his fault that the strategic hiding places weren't undercover or that the wet-start fireworks were too weak to deal with a little storm. Nobody was meant to get hurt.

Lily's biting words washed over him. St. Mungos this blah, blah, blah, sponsorship deal cancelled, what on earth ere they doing with five hundred sets of fireworks, blah, blah. She may as well have spoken Muggle.

"_You_, James," she snapped, jabbing him in the chest quite painfully, "agreed to help me make _you _look respectable. Just tell me how planning to set off hundreds of fireworks during a training session _this close _to your precious game is helping _me_?" James looked her in the eye, hoping that his internal battle was reflected in his eyes and it somehow softened her. There was no such softening.

"No one was supposed to get hurt. Those kids weren't supposed to be there. Besides, they're fine, they're at home now. No one's blaming me for it! Nobody knows who did it!" his voice rose with each sentence, "Just say that they're welcome to come see the game. Give 'em the best seats in your box. Make it right, that's what you're supposed to do anyway! You're my publicist!"

James stood up, towering over Evans. Even if it were a few inches below his eye-line, her emerald death glare said enough.

"_My _job as your publicist would be a hell of a lot easier if you actually tried to help, Potter!" She seethed, just as angry and piercing as he, "If the press gets a hold of this, _you_ have just screwed up almost a month's worth of work!"

Chest to chest, staring down each other, the two remained quiet for some time. James caught his breath as Lily regained her voice.

"You are going to stay here Potter," she said, fighting to keep her voice even and calm, "and think about what you have done." Lily grabbed her handbag off the counter and turned to leave the kitchen. "_I _am going to fix this for you"

She left without another word, and the flat suddenly fell silent. James sat back down at the counter.

Nobody was supposed to get hurt; those two kids shouldn't have gotten hurt. James buried his face in his hands. What had he done? All this practice and training for the League Cup had gotten to his head. The idea of having Lily Evans appear to the world as his girlfriend had gotten to his head. Not that he liked her like that anyway, she was just his publicist. His employee. She was no Alison; she was the complete opposite if anything. But she was smart and resourceful like Ali. Was she a Slytherin, he wondered. Ali was, he knew that from their numerous late-night conversations. What was she like at Hogwarts? Was she popular with loads of friends, the loner girl who sat at the back and topped the class in every subject? She _was _from Hogwarts wasn't she? She wasn't homeschooled. Muggleborn? She seemed to know a lot about Muggles, but maybe that was just because she paid attention in Muggle Studies. She seemed like the girl who paid attention in every class. That was the only way she could have achieved seven "Outstanding" N.E.W.T.s.

Maybe the fireworks were a bad idea, but he wasn't going to admit that to Evans. No. Tomorrow, they'd be back in business. He'll take her out for coffee, buy her the double-chocolate thing she liked.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

_Fourteen faves and forty alerts? You guys are amazing, thank you so much for all your support!_

_As always, constructive criticism is much appreciated._

_-xSymnia  
_


	6. Q, P & F

**CHAPTER FIVE: Q, P and Firewhiskey**

* * *

**6:54 pm. Day Twenty-Three of official employment. Current mood: vexed.**

* * *

To be completely and brutally honest, if Lily were to ever hear the words "Puddlemere" or "Quidditch" again, she'd be likely to throw the person who spoke the curses through her office window. No one could blame her of course; any sane witch who had recently sat through three weeks of purely Q-oriented conversations, meetings, public appearances and – sadly – dreams could not and would not be held responsible for a brief psychotic Q-induced moment. No, she would be fine as long as no one was stupid enough to mention either word within her hearing and the Ministry of Magic continued to be ruled by sane witches and wizards. But the former certainly wasn't going to occur today. No. Today was the reason behind the insanity, the British and Irish Quidditch League Final. The biggest day of James Potter's career, which in turn meant the biggest day of _Lily's_ career.

Lily never thought it would come down to this. A Merlin-knows-how-long Q-match was the most critical point of her career. She'd never even played the stupid game. And it wasn't just the game. There was the victory party that James was convinced they'd be holding, the victory interviews and the official handing over of the League Cup. Lily would not escape the most irritating word in the universe for some time. Perhaps, she mused, she should start taking some safety measures. Place Unbreakability Charms on her office windows and a Cushioning Spell on the strip of pavement below for good measure. Maybe whip up a batch of Draught of Peace to keep as emergency stock. An overconfident voice rudely broke her train of thought.

"All ready for the match, Evans? Big Quidditch game tonight, I can't have my lovely publicist unprepared." Lily lifted her head from her desk and shot a death glare at the man leaning against her doorframe, the source of her madness.

"Don't. Say. That. Word." She warned through clenched teeth. James only laughed.

"What, 'match'? Worried it'll set your hair on fire? I don't blame you, I'd be worried too, but-" …he stopped abruptly and dodged a coffee mug that flew dangerously close to his right ear. It smashed against the wall with no harm to James Potter, Chaser or his ego. "You need to work on your aim, Evans. You can't have terrible aim like that if you're in Puddlemere." Lily fought the urge to follow up with a heavy Muggle contraption called a stapler to his forehead as her target moved to take up the seat across from her. If she wanted to hit him, she would have. But then she'd be the reason for the loss of Puddlemere's self-titled "best Chaser in history". James lounged back into the chair and put on his most charming smile.

"You need a Firewhiskey or something. It'll calm your nerves; get you loosened up for the game." What Lily _needed _was a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino, but that wasn't going to happen either.

"I'm fine, thanks." She ignored his childish cheshire grin as she had finished signing off on the rest of her paperwork. Soon enough, the papers she'd been working on zoomed across the room to file themselves in the cabinet. With a flick of her wand, her mug returned to its front-and-centre position on her desk, looking as good as new. The giant windows cleaned themselves until they sparkled. Her clock breathed a sigh of relief upon announcing that it was seven. Lily grabbed her bag and stood up from her desk, giving her office a once over before leaving. James closed the door before her.

"You should be at stadium. The game is in less than an hour." Lily stated as they waited for the lift. James shrugged and ran a hand through his hair to mess it up a bit more. Internally, Lily rolled her eyes, amused at his antics.

"It's just another Quidditch match." He responded, grinning as Lily flinched at the Q-word. "They know I won't be there for a while anyway." A bell chimed and the lift doors opened. James pressed the 'ground floor' button as they entered.

"What, you've made it a habit to come and annoy your publicist before every match?" Lily asked, letting a smile creep onto her face. He shook his head, chuckling. The lift jolted and began to descend.

"Nah, they think I'm spending time with my favourite good luck charm." James replied, evidently entertained by Lily's bemused expression, "My _previously unseen_ good luck charm" he added. Ah, of course. His teammates, just as childish as he, assumed that he'd be getting lucky before the match. She shook her head and turned to the front of the elevator, gazing absent-mindedly at the lights. Something quipped at her.

"_Previously unseen_?" She repeated uncertainly, furrowing her eyebrows. The lift reached the bottom floor and the ornate doors opened to the grand lobby. James exited into the lobby. He'd been planning this whole conversation, hadn't he? He was milking it for everything he could get. Lily pursued him, mouth slightly ajar in disbelief. Upon reaching the centre of the empty lobby, he spun around to face the bewildered her. Standing close, she glared up at James, daring him to continue.

"Come on Lily, it's been almost a month! The pressis getting suspicious. They haven't met this girlfriend of mine yet. So, tonight, how about we surprise them? With the Cup in my hand and a new girlfriend on my arm, I'll be back on top!" Lily had to admit, she'd been considering a similar situation herself. But then again, it meant that there was no going back to being unknown if they did. She would be known as James Potter's girlfriend-slash-publicist, not the other way around. This job was going to be challenging, she knew that. Sometimes she'd have to improvise. But she wasn't going to let James Potter call the shots on this, no. That was _her_ job, Mr. Potter. That was what he hired _her_ for.

"Fine. I'll see you after the game then." She answered with a smile. James seemed to consider her agreement before turning and walking out the door of the building. Lily stood still for a moment, deliberating over what she had just agreed to. Brilliant, what could be called phase two of her grand plan had just been set in motion. In the press' eyes, she was no longer Lily Evans, publicist to James Potter. She was Mrs. Potter to-be. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

* * *

**12:35 am. Day Twenty-Four of official employment. Current mood: just a little tipsy.**

* * *

James Potter is a childish, annoying, scheming man and a brilliant Quidditch player.

It was a four hundred point victory, won in just under three hours. Even a Quidditch virgin like Lily could tell that was an amazing feat. One that she would definitely insist be brought up at the interviews that would certainly fill up her schedule for the next few weeks. But she shouldn't be thinking about publicist-ing now. This was a victory party, and right now she was just another twenty-something year old Puddlemere groupie celebrating the win. Tomorrow she'll deal with the interviews. _Tomorrow _she'll decide what to do about James Potter, Chaser.

Lily took another swig of her Firewhiskey and fell onto the couch. The two girls sitting beside her broke into a loud fit of giggles, almost falling off the couch in their hysterics. Using what was left of her sense, Lily moved to help them, only to realise that her reflexes weren't as good as she thought they were. A voice of reason pounded in her head, telling her to get home soon. She wouldn't be able to deal with a hangover. That was bad form, which in turn would give her a bad reputation as a publicist, which in turn would give her a bad reputation as a witch, which would lead her to drink more and more often, which would lead to her ultimately…

"Hey babe." Two men in Puddlemere robes replaced the girls on the couch. James steadied the swaying Lily by leaning her against his shoulder. She did not resist. Clearly, he was not as intoxicated as she was. Either that or he just held his liquor better, a very possible solution due to his fair amount of personal experience. Lily forced herself to concentrate on her surroundings. A scary number of people were crammed into James' flat; Quidditch players, girlfriends of Quidditch players, officials, some lucky fans, a couple of people she recognised from some press conference. The victory party was in full swing.

"This is Sirius." James yelled, the only way to be heard over the deafening music. He gestured to the other person on the couch, looking quite handsome in his purple Quidditch robes. Lily stared at him with wide eyes before offering her hand.

"Nice to meet you." Suddenly very aware of her inner voice of reason, Lily sat bolt upright. What in Merlin's name was she doing? She had to appear as the intelligent, practical new girlfriend of James Potter, Chaser. The one that was behind his transition from sinner to saint. Why was she getting drunk? Had she completely lost it? An intelligent, practical girlfriend of James Potter would not be doing this. She was not going to appear as sloppy. Sirius eyed her up and down before roughly shaking her hand and a gulping his beer.

"Not frigid. Nice legs, and Merlin, that hair. Nice pick, James! I'm proud!" Sirius cheered, after yet another gulp. The two laughed at Sirius' hilarious evaluation and high-fived over Lily's head. He left as soon as he noticed a couple of drunken ladies enjoying the party alone. James wrapped an arm around Lily's shoulders, pulling her closer to him. Lily ignored her rational thoughts. She ignored her pragmatic mind's berating of what her mother would think if she saw her like this. She calmly finished off her Firewhiskey and leant into James' shoulder.

"I should get home soon. I won't be able to organize interviews with a hangover." She said, moving to leave, but James' grip on her tightened.

"No you don't." he replied, pulling her closer again, only loud enough for Lily to hear over the music, "You're my girlfriend, Evans. You're meant to stay overnight, or at least be the last one to leave." Noticing a few questioning looks from a couple of Puddlemere players Lily did not know, he kissed her forehead and took another drain of beer. They took it in stride, walking away shaking their heads. Probably convinced that she was "yet another one". Sober, Lily would have made some smart comeback, remind him that she was the one in charge of this whole sinner-to-saint routine and he was to never make her appear foolish in front of the public again. Instead she just snuggled deeper into his shoulder.

"Tonight was supposed to be about you showing off your new girlfriend who is in the middle of whipping you into shape." She countered, just as quietly as James had spoken. Her words were slightly slurred, defeating her attempt at an autocratic tone, but the point was there. She felt James tremble with laughter.

"Oh, believe me; they've already met you, Evans." He unraveled himself from her and stood up, taking her empty bottle towards the bin. Lily took a moment to follow.

"_What?" _she demanded incredulously. He couldn't be serious. This was _not_ happening. She wasn't that drunk was she? Drunk enough not to notice camera flashes and reporter's grins? What was the time, midnight? That was enough to find and destroy all evidence. _If there was any_. Were those two hysterical girls journalists? Perhaps they hid a camera on the Firewhiskey bottle. They did the same with menus and candles, did they not?

"I saw them photographing you dance earlier, and just now, on the couch. You weren't caught out again were you, Evans? Now that's very sloppy." James had his back turned towards her, but Lily knew he was enjoying her confusion. Muggles call it déjà vu - when something reoccurs mysteriously. But this wasn't déjà vu. He just enjoyed seeing her suffer.

"_Why_ didn't you tell me? I could have dealt with it!" Lily grabbed another bottle of Firewhiskey. It wasn't a double-strength skim mocha, but it would do. People began to turn and stare. Had her voice really gotten that loud? James was also holding the bottle. Pulling at it. What in Merlin's saggy le-

His lips met hers.

Lily was only vaguely aware of the camera flashes and gazes from the crowd that had formed around the bar. James' hands found her face and hers found his neck. A loud roar of approval came from a pack of Puddlemere uniforms to her left, followed by a deafening cheer of evidently everyone in the apartment. Some were probably just joining in for the hell of it. They broke apart and locked eyes, breathing not a word.

"Deal with it." James whispered in her ear. With a smirk, he spun on his heel and headed the general direction of the kitchen. He had swiped her Firewhiskey.

* * *

**2:43 pm. Day Twenty-Four of official employment. Current mood: a crappy start to an impossible day.**

* * *

James Potter's couch was by far the most uncomfortable place that Lily had ever slept. When Lily woke, sunlight poured through the large west-facing windows, which made it nearly impossible to see. She had a crick in her neck, an aching shoulder and an extremely dry throat. Brilliant, she had managed to give herself a terrible hangover the same day she was to deal with important work. Great job, Lily. If she retained the coordination from her sobriety, she would give herself a high five. As she sat up, she squinted her eyes to block out the torturous light and attempted to stretch out the crick in her neck. She hadn't had a hangover this bad since finals week. And she'd rather not think about finals week.

She needed water. Lots of it.

Lily found herself in the kitchen faster than she could say the word. That was it, she was never drinking again. She would not be able to function properly if she had a worse hangover. She focused all her strength on refilling her glass at the tap and gulping down the makeshift medicine. It was only on her fifth glass that she noticed one James Potter sitting calmly at the bench, flicking through the morning's _Prophet_. If he was as bad off as she was, he certainly didn't show it. What was his secret? A Hangover-Curing Spell? Aunt Suzie's Hangover Treatment Cream?

"You certainly made a splash last night." He said nonchalantly, turning another page, "Almost knocked my magnificent win off the front page."

After another glass, Lily took notice of the page that James was reading. She never would have taken James Potter to be one who read the gossip columns. But he didn't have to read the columns; a picture said a thousand words, and _her _picture certainly deserved more than that. Gracing an entire half-page of the _Prophet,_ was a less-than-flattering photo of herself and a bottle of Firewhiskey. Her cheeks were almost as scarlet as her hair, evidently embarrassed from having a photo taken. Funny, she didn't remember that happening last night.

"Well this is just great" she stated sourly, moving as far away from the incriminating photo as possible. James was quick to respond with encouragements.

"This is a good thing, Evans." Lily eyed him cautiously. How on earth could he think of this as a good thing? Unless, of course, he had grown so used to embarrassing photos that he considered this one to be decent. He broke into a smile. "The guys from Puddlemere will be under the impression I'm getting lucky."

Lily threw her glass at him.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

_Thank you for all the feedback, I really, really appreciate it._

_-xSymnia_


	7. Dragonshide Heels

**CHAPTER SIX: Never, Ever Piss Off A Woman in Dragonshide Heels**

* * *

**7:56 pm. Day Seventy-Five of official employment. Current mood: chaotic.**

* * *

On any normal day, Lily's bedroom would belong in a Muggle furniture catalogue. The floor would be spotless, the carpet an unnatural white. The duvet covering the king bed would have not one crease; the pillows would appear to be floating. Clothes, shoes, jewelry and makeup would be hidden away in their separate compartments and cases – as to not clutter any dust-less surface. But going out to dinner with one James Potter, Chaser, and his parents was not the end of a normal day for Lily. Her best dress robes and most elegant jewelry was not her ordinary attire. And she only had four minutes to get ready and arrive in Diagon Alley.

Lily swore as the bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion toppled off the dresser and smashed onto her carpet, leaving a terrible transparent, gulgy mess behind. She kicked the half-empty bottle in frustration as she moved to find a hair ribbon hidden somewhere in the mountain of clothes strewn across her bed. She would have had much more time to get ready if she hadn't attempted to buy that stupid double-strength skim mocha cappuccino on her way home from the office. The Muggle coffee shop that sold them was closed by the time she got there. Stupid weekend opening hours.

Her alarm clock shook its head at her when it announced the hour passed. It hadn't been impressed with the shorter amount of sleep Lily had been getting the past few months.

"What would your mother say?" It had scolded one particularly late night about a week earlier, "A young lady like you needs more sleep. You don't want wrinkles when you're older, do you?" She had promptly told it to shut up. Lily would have given the damn thing a piece of her mind if she wasn't running so late. Bewitched alarm clocks were supposed to be cheerful and joyous upon announcing the time – all hers did was scold her.

* * *

They were dining at _Aristocratico_, much to Lily's dismay. Ever since the _Witch Weekly_ fiasco, Lily felt the restaurant was a bad omen. But Divination was a load of rubbish. She put aside her discomfort and instead wore a smile, praying that James had only been joking about hidden cameras in floating candles and the Love Potions disguised as champagne.

"I'm so glad I'm finally meeting you." Lily beamed, shaking the hands of both Maria and Patrick Potter. James certainly took after his father, who shared his untamable black hair and tall, thin build. Patrick Potter could pass as James in thirty years, and seemed to be fully aware of this fact. He wore dress robes of black and grey, just like his son, and sported a Puddlemere badge proudly on his chest. Lily wouldn't have been surprised to discover that he had played for Puddlemere years ago. Maria was shorter than both men and Lily, even with the scary dragonshide heels she wore. Her height didn't disguise her hostile glare at Lily as she took her seat. Lily shook her head. She was imagining things. Maria Potter was the kindest, most generous witch you could ever meet in James' eyes. She intended to share the view.

"I hear that you're James' new publicist." Maria stated as the wine glasses filled themselves with expensive champagne and menus appeared on the table. Lily swallowed awkwardly. This was what she had been dreading. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had obviously already met and befriended Alison Stern. Questions all about Lily would be the conversation of tonight, all the while questioning what in Merlin's name happened to Alison.

"Yes. I started in September." Lily ended her answer with a nervous smile, hoping that the glare she was receiving from Maria was all in her head. The woman across from her only curtly nodded and returned to her menu. Moments later, a plate of delicious roast beef and vegetables appeared in front of her. To her left, Patrick started on his medium-rare Diane steak.

"I'm assuming you were at the final match, Lily. What did you think? Best one of the season?" Whatever Maria Potter's problem was, Patrick did not feel the same. Lily was overcome with relief. At least one of them seemed to like her.

"James played tremendously. All those late night practices certainly helped. I should know, I was there." Both James and Patrick laughed far too much at her response, brightening Lily's cheeks to the shade of her hair.

"He takes after his old man, does James. I played for Puddlemere back in my best years. Four League Cups, and we were set for five until I blew my back out. 'Can't ride a broom with a back like that' said the healer. So they put Fairwell in my spot as Keeper for the final game. Nice kid, but he couldn't defend the hoops if his life depended on it." Lily smiled good-naturedly at his story and a plate of bouillabaisse appeared before her. So he _had_ played for Puddlemere, great. Lily must have seemed like a complete idiot not to recognise his name from the Hall of Fame. For all she knew, every one of James' forefathers had played on the team since its establishment. Quidditch was serious business for the Potters.

"Did you play at Hogwarts? You look like a Seeker." Lily was too preoccupied thinking of a way to appear less like a Quidditch virgin to answer. She turned her attention from her bouillabaisse, mouth ajar, unsure of what the question had been. There was a moment of awkward silence at the table.

"No, no, no, no. Lily was top of the class at Hogwarts, Dad. Seven Outstandings in her N.E.W.T. exams." Now, Lily would have never admitted this in any other situation, but she was glad to have James as her boyfriend. He had just saved her from a potential meltdown, and, judging from the smug grin he wore when he turned to her, he knew that. "But I hear that as Head Girl, she managed to get the entire Gryffindor House to help create a massive banner for matches."

How James Potter, Chaser, had found out about her time at Hogwarts was beyond her. How he found out about the Gryffindor banner she did not know. The fact that it was actually for the Charms Club was politely ignored. However, this seemed to grab Maria's interest off her roast beef. James motioned for her to continue.

"I was helping the Muggle Studies students to think of something to do for their 'Muggle Arts and Crafts' assignment. Then all the other kids saw it in the common room and, uh, pitched in. Professor McGonagall liked it and allowed us to use it for matches." Just not _Quidditch _matches, she added under her breath. Patrick cut off another piece of steak.

"Ah, McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor when Maria and I went there. I'm pretty sure I still have my first-year Transfig book lying around somewhere, always been too afraid that she'll know I've gotten rid of it. Scary woman, she is. Brilliant, but scary as shi-"

"Patrick!" a fierce voice barked from across the table. Maria looked as though she'd hit her husband for his terrible restaurant etiquette. Patrick, who scowled the same way James had when Lily had yelled at him over the fireworks, returned to his dish. She locked eyes with Lily for a brief moment; her glare a hundred times more frightening now she knew it wasn't in her head and it was directed right at her. It was then that Lily knew that she must never, ever, piss off Maria Potter.

* * *

**10:04 pm. Day Seventy-Five of official employment. Current mood: confounded.**

* * *

James had insisted on taking her home. How he knew which building in which neighbourhood in which _region_ to apparate to, she had no clue. Lily was getting a very eerie feeling that the man was either a mind-reader, stalking her, or, Merlin forbid, possessed the Inner Eye. She decided that she'd rather not think about it as they took the lift up to her broom closet/flat.

"You did well tonight, Lily. Even _I _was impressed." James said as the lift chimed and drew to a stop. Lily looked away and smiled as he pushed open the old cage door for her and let her through into the foyer.

"I got the impression your mother didn't like me." She replied. James scoffed and leant against her doorframe.

"She's done that ice-woman thing with every single one of the girls I've introduced her to. Don't take it personally, she definitely liked that Muggle arts and crafts story you told. I could see her smiling into her vegetables, and no one likes beans _that _much." Lily only half-listened as she rummaged through her purse for her keys, "The one she _actually_ didn't like was Alison. Called her a dragon at one point. 'Cranky, fiery and stupid', I overheard her say. Now while you've got the fire part down of that with your hair Lily, I reckon you've got a pretty good chance anyway." Her key had hidden itself away in the secret compartment of her purse, the one protected with a fingerprint-checking charm. She knew better than to leave keys to her apartment lying around in the open near James Potter.

"You want to come in for a coffee?" She asked as she opened the door, and in horror remembered the state that she'd left it in. She closed it quickly enough for James to be unable to see the clothes scattered everywhere leading up to her bedroom. James pushed himself off the wall and turned back towards the lift.

"Can't. Sorry. I'm meeting Sirius." Leave it to James Potter to go to dinner with his parents and then go do Merlin-knows-what with his mate in the same night. Lily nodded in reply.

"Ok. Well, goodnight then. I'll see you at the office at nine. _Sober_, please." He laughed.

"I wouldn't be anything less for you." James leant down and kissed her cheek, "Goodnight then." With a sudden, sharp _crack_, he was gone. Lily entered her apartment and dumped her purse in the last remaining clear spot on the coffee table. As much as it pained her, she really couldn't be bothered to clean up this absolute mess tonight. It had been a long, stressful day, and she really needed her sleep. Her alarm clock was very pleased to see her get into bed so early.

"Took my suggestions to heart, did you dearie? I'll wake you at seven. Sweet dreams." The lights flickered off. Lily eased herself into a warm, comfortable position underneath the duvet and pile of clothes. Sleep had never come easily to her, even when she was as tired as this. She just shut her eyes and let her mind wander, as it always did when she lay in bed each night. Images from the past two hours flooded her. _Aristocratico_, Maria Potter's dragonshide heels, Patrick Potter's Puddlemere badge, James' adorably messy hair, her delicious bouillabaisse, how handsome James was in his dress robes, the Gryffindor banner she helped paint in her seventh year, how James' lips felt so soft against her cheek-

Lily's eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright in her bed. What in Merlin's name was wrong with her? What was she thinking about? _James Potter _of all people was the subject of her pre-sleep dreams? No, this was just the dinner and memories of the night and alcohol talking, no, hallucinating. She wasn't falling for him. She wasn't attracted to him. _She wasn't thinking about him every night before she went to sleep. _It was only now that she realised how fast her heart was beating. That wasn't due to the thought of James was it? It was just the aftershock of Maria Potter's glare. Yes, that's what it was. Maria Potter's glare. Not James Pot- oh Merlin! Lily buried her head beneath the pillow and screamed, in hope it would get rid of those nonsensical images. It didn't.

No. Sh-she couldn't be. No, she was better than this. She wasn't like Alison; she wasn't _really_ dating James Potter. It was all an act, for the press. She wasn't really developing feelings for him? No, this was just what happened when you spent extended amounts of time with the man. Your mind gets frazzled by his bod…_ego_. She wasn't thinking straight. She was tired and stressed and full of champagne. Lily Evans could _not _be falling for James Potter.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.**

_Thank you so, so much for all the positive feedback. I'm so grateful for it._

_Until next time,_

_-xSymnia  
_


	8. Paris, Part I

**CHAPTER SEVEN: Ce N'est pas Vraiment une Aventure, N'est-ce pas E?**

* * *

**5:45 pm. Day Seventy-Nine with Evans. Current objective: end-of-week meeting.**

* * *

Honestly, how did she drink those things? They looked like dragon piss mixed with pumpkin juice and cough syrup, and they tasted worse.

James watched in disgust as the woman across the table took another sip of her stupid double-strength skim mocha cappuccino. Either Lily had absolutely no sense of taste (a fact that he was already very aware of from her choice of dinners. Who actually _likes _bouillabaisse?), or she enjoyed subjecting herself to torturous amounts of the worst drink in the world, _with no revolt at all_. James knew exactly why she couldn't find any in the magical world; wizards knew better than give themselves food poisoning.

Lily didn't even glance at him when she returned to the use-of-likeness permission slips. James hadn't expected anything more, she'd been like that for a few days now; ignoring him, saying as little as humanly possible, gulping down insane amounts of that brew. She'd even turned down the Firewhiskey he'd brought her the other day. Something was up with this non-Quidditch-playing, straight-Outstanding, former-Head-Girl publicist. She'd been like that since the night she met his parents. What was she trying to do? Use the coffee to induce enough trauma to the brain that she forgot that debacle? Try to forget one of his mother's glares? James had no clue. She kept a thick curtain of red hair between them as she signed another slip.

"I'm going to Paris Monday." She said softly, placing the slip into her outbox. James shifted in his seat, sitting himself a little straighter. Well, this was new, Evans. More than one word in a sentence, at least they were getting somewhere. He put on his most charming smile and leant in closer to the desk, resting his hands an inch from where she had been working.

"You want some company? I'll admit, I didn't take you for the Paris kind of girl. I pictured you touring Italy, maybe Australia, it's summer there now. Work on that tan." To his surprise, Lily shook her head, and it wasn't the one that accompanied a smirk and a smart-arse comeback; it was just as subtle as her voice was. She moved her hair behind her ear and locked eyes with him. Well well, he hadn't seen those eyes for a while. He'd almost forgotten how scary they were.

"No, I'm going alone. I have an interview with a board member of Emaurri." James blinked. Board member? What was she on about? What, did she want him to move into business management now? Quite frankly, he was far too happy playing Quidditch right now to do so. Lily could apparently read minds, "Not for me, for you. Emaurri Enterprises has become the sister company of Cleansweep, they're based in Paris. I am going to convince them to sponsor you since Cleansweep is uninterested." Lily closed her binder and stood from her chair. James followed suit, now a force of habit since Lily had started. He accompanied her out of the office.

"And why have I not been invited?" James questioned, putting on a tone of indignation. Lily kept her back to him as she locked the door behind them, dropping the key into the depths of her handbag.

"Because I'd rather show them that it's James Potter, Chaser, who is interested in getting sponsored, not James Potter _and _his girlfriend Lily Evans. I'll be there to represent my client." She finally turned to face James, "And I'll be back on Thursday. You can survive that long without me, can't you?"

She hastily apparated away.

* * *

**1:45 pm. Day Eighty-One of official employment. Current mood: finally, at ease…somewhat.**

* * *

Lily's interview at Emaurri wasn't until three. There was really no point in having a nice, expensive lunch on the Champs-Élysées and doing a bit of shopping before heading off to the meeting. Not when she could've just Apparated there five minutes before three. There was really no point in staying at a fancy Muggle hotel for three nights when she could just return to her own flat and her own bed each night. There was no real point to be pretending to be just another Muggle on another Muggle business trip at all really.

As Lily waited for her order to arrive (as Muggles had to do at restaurants since the food didn't miraculously appear in front of them), she could hear Izzy Skeptor's voice echo in her head, "Lily dear, what on earth are you doing, mixing in with these Muggle folk? They're boring, really. They don't appreciate our talents. I once met a Muggle in Flourish and Blotts. He was with his daughter, buying books for Hogwarts, but you tell he was Muggle from a mile away, it's the way they dress, you see? I can't understand their fashions, never took Muggle Studies at Hogwarts, Divination was my favourite subject. They wear these things called gins, oh, _jeans _is it? Strange name. They're so uncomfortable, and those shoes of women Muggles! How do they walk without Balancing Charms? I don't understand Muggles at all, how they go about their little lives without a drop of magic!"

The Muggle world was the furthest place away from James Potter that Lily could think of. Muggles didn't know what Quidditch was; they didn't even know that brooms could fly. If they heard the name James Potter, they'd assume he was an accountant or some businessman. They didn't have Firewhiskey or pumpkin juice, floating candles or dragonhide heels. And in her pleated skirt and sensible heels, sitting alone at a café with a glass of sparkling water, Lily was just another young Muggle. She would be able to keep her mind of James and the feelings she obviously didn't have for him, enjoy a nice French meal, climb the Eiffel Tower and be home before midnight Wednesday. Oh, and get that sponsorship deal too.

Her order arrived and Lily ate her Saumon Fumé in silence, enjoying her anonymity in the bustling street. This was nice, not having to worry about what idiotic thing James was going to do next and how she was going to save his ass this time, not having to think about the pile of letters that were surely in her inbox and the owls that were storming her office. Would this be her life had she never gone to Hogwarts? If she instead went to the City of London School for Girls as her parents intended? Alongside, Merlin forbid, her sister Petunia? Then what would she be doing now? Would she be an English teacher or a scientist or doctor or horticulturalist? She'd always had two green thumbs. What was Petunia doing anyway? They hadn't spoken since Lily left for her seventh year. Her mother said something about her getting engaged. Perhaps she would've been a bridesmaid had she not discovered her magical ability? Would Petunia be a bridesmaid at _her _wedding? Not that she was getting married, of course. Who was she going to marry, James Potter? Sure, he looked good in dress robes but he wasn't the kind to be in a committed relationship.

Lily shook her head in disbelief. What was she doing? She had come to Paris to get her mind off silly things like that. How could she be developing feelings for James Potter? No, that was the point. She was _not_ developing feelings for James Potter. She took another bite of her salmon.

* * *

For the sponsorship manager-slash-senior board member of Emaurri Enterprises, Lily had been expecting someone…older. Adrienne Emaurri didn't look a day over twenty wearing his sky blue robes with gold trimming and a rather interesting fur cloak. Lily found it hard to believe that this man was the key to James' success in the coming Quidditch season; as well as the key to her success as a publicist. Emaurri greeted her and motioned for her to sit in the chair opposite him. She settled in quickly, suddenly feeling very aware of her Muggle business attire.

"First of all, I'd like to thank you for your time today, Mr. Emaurri. My client is very enthusiastic about this possible sponsorship." With a flick of his wand, a set of quills and parchment materialised onto the table and two glasses of water floated into the room. Adrienne Emaurri placed his wand on the desk and folded his hands onto it.

"Well, Emaurri Enterprises is certainly intrigued by your client's interest in us, Mademoiselle Evans." He replied with a charming French accent, leading Lily to lean in further to understand him, "As far as we could tell, Monsieur Potter had no interest in us prior to Puddlemere's win in September." Lily had anticipated this. What Emaurri said was true; Alison Stern seemed to enjoy turning away possible sponsors in order to give James a bad boy image. Along with picking up the pieces of James' shattered reputation, Lily had to piece together what she could to further his career. She was beginning to hate Alison.

"Oh believe me, he was very interested. It was more my client's lack of time for business that held back sponsorship possibilities. And now, in the lead up for the next season, he believes that it is the time to act." Lily attempted to keep her voice level as she spoke, her irritation for Alison Stern growing by the second. Emaurri took a moment to consider this.

"We were under the impression that he was too drunk to consider sponsorship possibilities." He eventually commented, not bothering to hide the sneer in his voice. Lily gritted her teeth. If only he knew, she thought. Emaurri adjusted his position, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses further up his nose, "Mademoiselle Evans, we French _do _have gossip magazines as well. Our current view on Monsieur Potter is that his bad reputation will have a negative effect on sales, and we have already taken measures to boost these sales through Cleansweep. He may play Quidditch well, Mademoiselle Evans, but our customers are not going to look past the darker aspects of Potter's career. We would sooner sponsor the Falmouth Falcons. Just because he wants to turn his life around, or in this case, it is clearly _you_ who wants to turn his life around, does not mean that his reputation has been dispelled. No girlfriend or publicist will change James Potter's less-than savory past."

Lily was quiet for some time, considering this argument. _Just because he wants to turn his life around, or in this case, it is clearly _you_ who wants to turn his life around, does not mean that his reputation has dispelled._ She really had overestimated herself. Brilliant job, Lily. No one had been fooled by her sinner-to-saint routine. No one thought that James had changed. James was just as screwed as he had been before the League Cup win. _She _was just as screwed. Emaurri Enterprises had clearly decided to block James from even the smallest of sponsorships before she had called; Merlin knew how many other companies felt the same. She could see that Emaurri was itching to get away, probably to another meeting with another client with a more positive reputation. Lily wanted to bury her head in her hands and scream. Most of all, she had let her feelings overrun good judgment. Lily felt her mouth go dry as she got up from her chair.

"Well then. My client sincerely hopes you will reconsider, Mr. Emaurri." She felt her legs shake underneath her; she prayed her hand wasn't as bad she shook Emaurri's. He smiled again, but this time it was more sinister, less well-meaning. He looked older now, no potion or spell could hide that grin of a sixty-year-old businessman. Without another word to Emaurri, she exited the office, empty-handed.

* * *

**10:49 pm. Day Eighty-One of official employment. Current mood: downcast, craving a decent Firewhiskey.**

* * *

She had been drinking since nine, but all the alcohol in the Muggle world couldn't get her mind off her own stupidity. She may as well resign now; there was nowhere to go from here. James had no chance of getting sponsored, she wasn't going to get that portrait in the Hall of Fame, she wasn't going to get a high-paying job at Rancorn Firm with Izzy. But firstly, most importantly, she had very nearly become another notch in James Potter's belt, and that was a long belt. She had almost let herself fall for him, _willingly_, without being cursed. When she sold her soul to Izzy Skeptor, she hadn't expected to give away her intelligence and self-preservation instincts with it. What was she even doing here, in a Muggle bar? She may as well go back to her hotel, or even better, her flat in London. It wasn't like the hotel staff was going to miss the young redhead in room 703 for the night. She could go home, wallow in self-pity, then return to her office on Thursday like nothing was wrong. James Potter wouldn't notice a thing.

"Bad day?" A deep voice from her left plucked Lily out of her misery. A very handsome man stood beside her, roughly her age and height, eyeing her carefully with large grey-blue eyes, as if worried she would vomit on his expensive three-piece suit at any moment. Lily stared at him for a minute, sizing him up. She instinctively put her hand on her wand, which lay on her lap.

"Closer to atrocious, and if there's anything worse than that, that's how my day was." Her words had begun to slur slightly, but she made it a point not to sway in her seat. She couldn't deal with another terrible first impression today. The man seemed to deem her harmless, taking up the barstool next to her, placing his empty beer on the countertop. He flicked back his dirty blonde hair and offered a bony hand, introducing himself.

"Tristan." Lily took his hand and shook it lightly.

"Lily." Tristan gave her a sympathetic smile and motioned for another beer, keeping one eye on Lily and her alcohol. They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the company of each other. Lily studied this Tristan. Roughly twenty-five, bit of stubble, his tie was undone and his three-piece suit a little crushed. He clearly wasn't doing too well today either.

"So, I saw you up here, and I asked myself 'what is an enchanting young woman like her doing at a bar all by herself, crying her eyes out?'. You weren't stood up, were you? Guy must've been mad if he passed up someone as pretty as you." Lily grinned at this, she wasn't sure why, she'd heard it all before. It could've passed as a standard James Potter pickup line if Tristan mentioned Quidditch within the next five seconds. Lily let go of her wand, now relaxing both arms on the counter.

"I wasn't stood up." She established, flicking her auburn hair behind her shoulder, "Just…needed a drink. But this isn't doing the trick." She added, gesturing towards the empty cocktail glass. Tristan cocked his head to get a better view of Lily's face.

"I wouldn't have thought a pretty girl like would come to _this _bar, off all the places in Paris." Lily finally took notice of her surroundings. The pub was very dark, the only light being from the light-up cocktail glass behind the counter, which of course, was coated in a thick layer of dust. Everything about the place screamed disuse, and it finally hit Lily why she was there. It was effectively the Muggle Leaky Cauldron. So much for being just another Muggle on another Muggle business trip.

"Reminds me of home." She stated, fingering her glass, making a small circle of dust-less countertop. The blonde beside her raised an eyebrow, but didn't ask her why home was such a disgusting place. "What is a man wearing an expensive suit like that doing at _this _bar, of all the places in Paris?" She asked him, twisting his words around.

"In a nutshell, my idiot assistant may have lost two of our most important clients over the course of a single lunch." He replied, gripping his bottle tightly. Lily understood. She felt much the same way, only her idiot assistant was also her boyfriend, Puddlemere's best Chaser in decades and her key to a portrait in the Hall of Fame. But Tristan couldn't know that, he was a Muggle, so Lily just nodded in agreement.

"Can't say I blame you for coming here then." Lily gently put a hand on Tristan's shoulder, squeezing slightly. She saw him smile gratefully and motion for two more beers.

"This one is on me." He said. Lily accepted without another thought.

"Cheers."

* * *

**6:13 am. Day Eighty-Two of official employment. Current mood: convinced that she **_**will**_** never drink again.**

* * *

There was not yet enough morning light for Lily to figure out which of the many garments strewn across the floor of the master bedroom were hers. It didn't matter really. She was a witch, gifted in the arts of magic. She could apparate into her hotel suite across town without any embarrassment, once she found her wand. Lily tiptoed around the room, desperately searching for her wand through half-shut eyes in the rapidly increasing light. She didn't know if Tristan was a light sleeper, but she certainly didn't want to stick around long enough to find out. Her head was killing her; it hurt to open her eyes further than another millimetre in the sunlight, and with just a bathrobe wrapped around her, she was quickly freezing to death as well. If she didn't find her wand soon, she didn't know what she'd do. How did Muggles deal with situations like this? Suddenly, Lily understood Izzy's incomprehension of Muggles and their lifestyles. They certainly surprised her too. But that was another matter, Lily just had to get out of there now. Frantically scanning the messy bedroom, she spied it, lying harmlessly on the bedside table next to the sleeping lump of blonde hair.

She felt even more nauseous now, tiptoeing towards the table at a pace much faster than her body cared for. No human being, magical or not, should be required to do such things whilst hungover. Yet, she was doing this. Sneaking out in the early hours of the morning like some naughty teenager. As she approached the table, arm outstretched to grab her ticket home, a deafening, endless beeping stopped her in her tracks. Tristan's alarm clock.

Internally, Lily swore as Tristan's eyes shot open and his hand groped for the 'snooze' switch of the clock. It took him less than a second to notice her.

"Li-Lily?" He questioned. What was this? Was he was trying to remember her name? She didn't blame him, in her current state, she considered remembering her own name a feat in itself, "What are you doing, babe?"

Lily couldn't deal with this. She was hungover, she could barely see now that the room was becoming brighter and brighter, he head felt like it was going to explode, and she had a very handsome man staring intently at her nearly naked self. She did it instinctively, without even a thought to what consequences it would bring.

"Thanks for the drink, Tristan." She whispered. With a sharp _crack_, Lily disappeared from the bedroom.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter. _

_Thanks so much for the feedback guys!_

_-xSymnia_

**EDIT (9/4/11): **___Fixed the title, my French leaves much to be __desired. Thanks for your input, Louise :)_  



	9. Paris, Part II

**CHAPTER EIGHT: ****Personne n'a Vraiment Besoin de Savoir, N'est-ce Pas?**

* * *

**1:45 pm. Day Eighty-Three of official employment. Current mood: finally relaxed**

* * *

The French managed to make even the harshest of rejections sound opulent. "Non, Mademoiselle Evans" had quite a nice ring to it once someone heard it a few times. Perhaps it was the accent, Lily mused, traipsing the steps outside _Bureau de Dieudonnée, _once again without a deal. French accents could make anything sound pleasant. Her hair swept across her face as a car flew down the street, an icy gust bowling over her. Lily tucked her hair under her scarf as she set off across the road, heading for her next stop; lunch. Working this hard and getting rejected so many times really brought up an appetite. In the past two days, Lily had heard every possible variation of 'no', and some were quite creative.

"_Sorry, Mister Potter is not exactly our most desirable candidate for sponsorship deals." "We're sorry, but our sponsorship opportunities are currently all booked." "We are a conservative company, Mademoiselle Evans. We do not believe that Monsieur Potter is the kind of person we would want associated with our business. Sorry." "I understand that he is interested in turning his life around, and I applaud your efforts, Miss Evans. You must be gutsy to take on someone like Potter, but we are not interested. Have a nice day." "Thanks, but no thanks."_

If Lily were in absolutely any other situation, if she had that internship at Rancorn or was representing someone else like Andrew Snowyowl of the Appleby Arrows, she would have applauded Alison Stern on her craftsmanship. The woman had brought James Potter into the view of the magical world and its media, turned him into someone they loved to hate, then given the following succession of publicists the job of making him appear decent again, a nearly impossible feat. And by doing so, she had assured herself a large boost in her career and a short-listing into every major public relations firm in Britain. Stern wasn't just another dumb assistant of James', she was intelligent and resourceful. Surely someone like her would have been better suited to Slytherin, not Ravenclaw like she was. But Lily was better than her, she wasn't going to give up, she had come too far for that. She was going to pull this off and get that portrait in the Hall of Fame. She wasn't going to be just the successor to Alison Stern. No, Lily Evans was going to be remembered as the woman who single-handedly whipped James Potter into shape.

Would she have this problem if she were a Muggle? No, of course not. Lily wouldn't be dealing with annoying Quidditch players who had an affinity for Firewhiskey. She wouldn't be dealing with their scary-ass mothers who wore dragonhide heels. She wouldn't have to trek in a practically foreign country to buy a decent coffee or hide her favourite chocolates in an enchanted safe hidden under a false bottom in her desk drawer. She wouldn't have to deal with her client's enticing hair or how handsome he looked in Quidditch robes. _No_. She wouldn't have to deal with James Potter or the feelings she certainly wasn't repressing for him. What was she talking about, _of course_ she didn't have feelings for him! If she did, then she wouldn't have left the bar with him two nights ago. She wouldn't have left at some ungodly hour the next morning for fear of getting caught out. _No,_ she was not doing this.

Then there was Tristan. She didn't even know his surname, but that didn't matter, did it? If something so passionate blossomed between them, were names really that much of a concern? Was she feeling something for him now? Tristan seemed like a great guy; handsome, smart and successful…at least until that assistant caused him to wind up at that bar. Lily could sympathise with him, understand him, know where he was coming from. That was certainly something she couldn't do with James. How in Merlin's name did the man _enjoy_ zooming across the sky at insane speeds doing death-defying stunts? How did he enjoy being on a broom? At least Muggles like Tristan were smart enough not to endanger themselves unnecessarily like that. They had normal, safe sports like football and car racing and archery and gymnastics. Lily had often envisioned herself actively involved in wizarding sports, had they not involved heights or Bludgers.

Lily reached the riverside patisserie just as the skies opened up. She watched in somewhat intrigue as Muggles left, right and centre sprinted for the safety of storefronts and cafes. How did they do that, Muggles? How did they go about their lives with no magic to help them at all? Even Lily herself, magical for only a decade, could not remember ever going about without it. Ordering herself a quiche and cappuccino, making a mental note to conjure an umbrella when she found a table, Lily found a whole new respect for the Muggle world.

* * *

**12:45 pm. Day Eighty-Three with Evans. Current objective: where on Earth did she hide those chocolates?**

* * *

Lily wouldn't notice if only one of her chocolates was missing, would she? Of course she wouldn't, given he could find them. Would she even notice _two_ missing?

Merlin, where were they? He saw her treating herself to one on Friday, a caramel if he remembered correctly. She hadn't offered him one. Knowing her, she probably used some obscure Muggle method to hide them, a pathetic illusion they called "magic". However, if she did do one of those Muggle magic tricks on them, he was very impressed. Two days of turning her office upside-down and inside-out had achieved nothing. Using a Summoning Charm had only gotten him covered in that disgusting product known as a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino. She'd booby-trapped it, he was sure of it.

Lily would know the minute, no, the _second_ she returned to the office that he'd searched it. She was creepy like that, a bit of a neat-freak. He _had _to find those chocolates to make the past few days worthwhile. It had to appear that he'd done _something _productive while she was away. James slammed her desk drawer shut in frustration. That was it, he was out of ideas. There was nowhere in this office he hadn't looked, and she definitely hadn't taken them home. He collapsed into the chair, completely spent. Half a day of searching took much more energy than someone like Lily would think.

James scoped the office, eyeing off every detail of it. Lily had obviously not yet discovered the safe behind the portrait of the first Puddlemere team that Alison used to hide her butterbeer in. Apparently she had not found the secret passageway to the rooftop hidden behind the bulletin board either. He sat back further into the chair, resting his legs on the desk – the most comfortable position in this place. As he moved his hands behind his head, ready for a well-earned nap, an envelope crammed into the overflowing inbox, caught his eye. No permission slip or official document from the press was ever folded into an envelope. This was something different, something important.

James lifted the envelope off the pile with a feather-light grip. He had a bad feeling that Lily had booby trapped her inbox as well, for good measure. Once sure that it didn't contain explosives or some other device, he flipped it over and studied the writing on the back.

_Improper Use of Magic Office  
Ministry of Magic_

* * *

**5:34 pm. Day Eighty-Three of official employment. Current mood: oh Merlin.**

* * *

For only seven more hours could Lily consider herself to be just another Muggle on another Muggle business trip. Tomorrow morning, she would be back in London, with James, dealing with magical problems again. She wasn't ready for that. She didn't want to go. She was happy here; acting like a Muggle, sleeping like a Muggle, drinking like a Muggle. There was no James Potter or Puddlemere United Quidditch team to worry about. No ugly moving photographs of herself or her client in the _Daily Prophet _to embarrass her. Given some practice, Lily could deal without magic again. After all, Muggles had a thing called electricity, and that was _kinda _like magic to them.

Suite 703 was on the seventh floor of Lily's hotel, facing away from the road and out over the city. It was a beautiful room, decked out in plush chaises, rich burgundy carpet and Egyptian cotton sheets. Best off all, it was at the end of the hall, the furthest room from the lifts, so it was very quiet and very out of the way.

Needless to say, opening the door to Suite 703 and seeing one James Potter stretched out across her lounge gave Lily a rude shock. She gaped in disbelief as he smiled and waved, evidently very pleased with the effect he had on showing up in her hotel room. This wouldn't happen if she had a Muggle client who couldn't apparate anywhere he felt like it at any time he liked. Lily slammed the door behind her.

"What the _hell _are you doing here, James?" She seethed, striding up to the lounge and dumping her bag unceremoniously on his legs. He winced at the weight of it and sat up straighter on the lounge, pushing it to the floor and pulling an envelope out of his jacket pocket. Lily glanced at it, then back at James, intent to not break eye contact with him. James said nothing.

"I'll ask again. What the _hell _are you doing here?" Lily again glanced at the envelope, " And what is that?"

James moved to make room for her and motioned for her to sit. Grudgingly, Lily obliged, taking the letter he was offering. Her eyes went straight to the sender.

"Merlin, what have you done, James?" She asked, her voice icy. She shook her head incredulously as she ripped open the letter, "Honestly, can't I leave you alone for more than a moment before something go-" She stopped abruptly when she read the first line. This letter was addressed to her. Lily opened and closed her mouth awkwardly, no words could come out. She was silent for some time.

"It was on your desk. It must have arrived yesterday." James explained, reading the letter over her shoulder. He noticed the parchment getting scrunched up in Lily's fist as she continued to read.

_Dear Miss Evans,_

_We have received intelligence that at fourteen minutes past six o'clock this morning, you Disapparated from the fifty-third suite of The Ritz Hotel Paris in the presence of a Muggle without a reasonable excuse._

_As this is a serious offence under Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statute of Secrecy, your presence is required at a Wizengamot hearing on the first of December at 9am._

_Sincerely,_

_Bob Ogden._

Even after she finished reading, Lily remained still and silent, an expression of sheer horror frozen on her face. James sighed and leant back into the lounge, locking his hands behind his head and staring up at the ceiling.

"Well, well Evans." He said, fighting to keep the smile off his face, "Looks like someone's been having some fun."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter. _

_I really can't thank you guys enough for all the positive feedback!_

_-xSymnia  
_


	10. Making Something

**CHAPTER NINE: Making Something Out of Nothing**

* * *

**7:55 pm. Day Eighty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: enervated.**

* * *

"I can't believe this." Lily sulked, brusquely sliding the copy of _Rumours! _off the kitchen countertop. It bounced off the pile of magazines already crammed into the bin below and onto the floor, grunting before repeating its headline "_When in Paris, Don't Do as Lily Evans dos"_ in a singsong voice. Lily stamped on it for good measure, crushing her heel over the intricate, incriminating title. To her left, James had a similar go at the evening's _Prophet_, scrunching it up and tossing it into the wastepaper basket next to the kitchen door. She ignored the fact that he hadn't missed one all night, she wasn't in the mood for his cockiness.

"In less than three days, the entire wizarding world has found out about my run-in with the Statute of Secrecy." Lily stated incredulously, gesturing to the brimming bin next to her foot, "How on earth did that happen?" James, helpful as always, shrugged and silently pulled another tabloid from the shrinking pile of the day's news on the bench, unfazed by the huge amount of media coverage on her stint in Paris. Lily was stunned by the composure he'd had all day. He was probably just used to having terrible photos of himself appear on the front cover of every magical media outlet after an escapade.

"I'm impressed, Evans." He replied, completely ignoring her question, "Nine covers and thirteen articles in three days. I think you've broken my record. Ooh, look! They've got a half-decent photo of you at the Eiffel Tower here!" Lily snatched up the copy of _An Era _and hit James with it. He chuckled to himself as he watched her flip through the pages to find no such picture. James calmed down and picked up the second-last magazine in the pile. Lily threw _An Era_ onto the floor, not even bothering with the bin anymore, and took the last one.

To his everlasting credit, from when he'd stolen into her hotel room Wednesday night and read the letter from the Ministry over her shoulder, James had never once bothered to ask the one question he had every right to, the one that Lily had been expecting him to, the one that she would not be able to answer. _Why was she even _in _a Muggle hotel at six in the morning, and why did she feel the need to Disapparate?_

Of course, she would never tell _him _that.

Lily subtly eyed the person sitting to her left over the top of her magazine. James wasn't stupid; he already knew far too well why she was in The Ritz Hotel Paris at six in the morning. He already knew exactly why she Dispparated in front of Tristan at that unearthly hour. He could be laughing at her stupid split-second decision as she had been expecting him to. He could have ruined her by asking that question and then firing her, like she had told herself to expect. But he hadn't. Instead of doing all those things she had thought he would, he'd done the opposite. Instead of laughing and jeering at her stupidity, he had volunteered to help her sort out how much the media knew. Instead of asking that horrible question, he'd stayed silent and assisted in figuring out how much of her reputation they could salvage. He'd done all the things she'd expected a boyfriend to. And come to think of it, James Potter, sober obviously, would make a pretty good boyfriend. He was smart, handsome, not overly dependent or independent. Maybe if he were a little less childish she'd seriously consider it.

Of course, she would never tell _him _that.

A sharp knock at the door broke her out of her teenage daydreams. Lily glanced at the clock above the sink as James left to answer it – 8 o'clock. Who visited at 8 o'clock? Still in a state of confusion, Lily heard the cheery voices of James and someone else from the hall, then the door closing and footsteps towards the kitchen. She swore she heard James mention mooning someone as the kitchen door opened and the two entered.

The other man was of about James' height, with wispy light brown hair and a pale face – he looked quite ill. He wore fairly shabby robes of blue and silver and carried what Muggles called a briefcase. He beamed as his eyes fixed upon Lily, and appeared much younger when he smiled.

"Lily, this is Remus Lupin. He's been my best friend from before I joined Puddlemere." Remus Lupin offered Lily his hand, which she took, glancing at James for more details, "Moony, Lily needs your help."

Lily did a double-take. Help? She needed a bloody miracle to not get sent to Azkaban for breaking the Statute of Secrecy! Lupin didn't seem to thinking along the same lines as her; he made an 'ah' sound and settled into the chair James had previously occupied. He opened his briefcase and started to pull out thick books, quills and rolls of parchment.

"So what are dealing with here, Lily? Inappropriate use of magic? Enchanting Muggle artifacts? Setting off some fireworks inside a Muggle café?" He gave a very pointed look at James as he said the latter. Lily glanced between the two, her mouth ajar in puzzlement.

"I-I'm sorry. What help is this?" James grinned and sat down on the other side of the counter, stretching out his arms before placing them comfortably behind his head.

"Moony here is a lawyer, got me out of a few scrapes last year. Figured you'd need him for your hearing next week." Lily again glanced at the two of them, who looked quite smug with the mention of James' girlfriend needing help. She opened her mouth to say something witty, but nothing came.

"Wizards have _lawyers_?" Both Lupin and James laughed at this for far too long. James, in his hysterics, began hitting the countertop with his fist, spilling Lupin's quills and ink. Lily stared at him, an unimpressed expression on her face.

"Well, yeah. How do you think I got away with all those pranks with Sirius?" Lupin whipped out his wand and directed the black ink back into the bottle, leaving the countertop cleaner than it had been originally. Wizards had lawyers, that was new. Lily had never heard of a wizarding lawyer before. How did they get into wizarding law?

"So Lily, what seems to be the problem?" He sounded more like a doctor than a lawyer, and he didn't look the least bit like how Lily imagined a lawyer, but if he was going to keep her from going to Azkaban, she'd deal with it.

"I Disapparated in front of a Muggle, which violates the Statute of Secrecy." Lupin must have dealt with much worse with James, as he didn't express the same shock the media did upon hearing this. He just nodded and wrote _Disapparated/Muggle_ down on a piece of parchment, followed by something that looked suspiciously like an arrow pointing to a Dementor. Lily felt James' eyes fixating on her.

"And what reason did you have for doing this?" Lily sighed. She should have expected this to come, whether it be during the hearing or from this guy. The letter from the Ministry was right; she had no reason to Disapparate in front of Tristan. No reason that wouldn't hurt her reputation more and turn her into a cheater as well as a criminal.

"I have no reason." Again, Lupin had clearly dealt with worse. He continued to take notes and draw small pictures on his parchment.

"Have you had any other warning letters or anything from the Ministry for inappropriate usages of magic?" Lily shook her head. Lupin added this and folded up the parchment.

"All right, we can work with this." Lily and James locked eyes and smiled. For the first time since finding James Potter in her hotel suite, Lily had a feeling that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

**9:00 am. Day Ninety-Two of official employment. Current mood: a thousand times more anxious than anxious.**

* * *

Apparently no reporter or journalist in the magical world had any prior engagements for the first of December, judging by the state of the Wizengamot courtroom on the second floor of the Ministry of Magic. The court had barely enough standing room when the hearing started at nine o'clock precisely. Seated in the oversized chair in the centre of the room, Lily started to get nervous as the courtroom's fell silent. Her feet started to shake in her sensible shoes and she had to fight to keep her hands from shaking so much that it was noticeable. James and Remus Lupin had front-row seats, dressed impeccably in sharp dress robes and pointed hats. Every eye of the Wizengamot's eyes was fixed on Lily, and she could feel herself shrinking in her seat. From the temperature of the courtroom, she was sure that Dementors were waiting outside to take her away to Azkaban.

_No_, Lily told herself, sitting up a little bit straighter. She had to stay strong. James and his loony lawyer friend were going to get her out of this trouble.

"We, the Wizengamot and an uncommonly large audience, are here today, at nine o'clock in the morning on the first day of winter, for the hearing of Miss Lily Evans, number twenty-three Rosefern building, Diagon Alley, who is charged with a serious violation of Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statute of Secrecy. Today we have myself, Bob Ogden, as chairperson and chief interrogator of the accused and Miss Evelyn Giles, senior administrator of the Ministry of Magic, taking the minutes. Miss Evans has called Mr. Remus Lupin as her legal defence and Mr. James Potter as a character reference. The Wizengamot will take note that this is the first time we have congregated here and it is not Mr. Potter sitting in the centre chair." The courtroom momentarily broke the silence with a good-natured chuckle as Ogden smiled at James knowingly. Lily did not join in.

"The court calls Mr. Lupin to the floor to assist Miss Evans." Remus picked up his briefcase and headed to the floor, stopping at a table that had been conjured for him to the right of Lily. They exchanged supportive smiles. Ogden wasted no time – he seemed to be in a bit of a rush, he probably had several more people to send to Azkaban today.

"Miss Evans, do you understand what the Statute of Secrecy is and why it was put in place?" Lupin nodded at Lily to answer.

"Yes. It separates magic from Muggles and protects the people of the both the magical and Muggle world." Her answer was subject to much whispering around the Wizengamot. What were they saying? Were they discussing her blood status? Was there something wrong with her answer? Had she said something unknowingly inappropriate? Were they, Merlin forbid, criticizing her fashion sense? One of the younger female members of the Wizengamot was definitely eyeing her shoes critically. Lupin seemed to be drawing pictures again.

"Did you understand that by Disapparating in the presence of the conscious Muggle, Mr. Tristan Sterling, you were in serious violation of this Statute?" Lupin again nodded at Lily to answer and returned to his parchment. She swallowed, hoping to clear the dryness in her mouth.

"Yes." Ogden wrote something down on a piece of parchment. _He's just drawing_, Lily told herself, feeling her heart attempt to leap out of her chest. Another round of whispers, this time everyone in the courtroom, both judging and witnessing had something to say about her. There was a fury of scribbling as several reporters jotted down notes – flashes came from everywhere as paparazzi documented her discomfort.

"Do you have any valid reason for the Disapparation, Miss Evans?" Ogden and Lupin stopped drawing. The flashes halted, as did the scribbling sound. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw James lean forward, evidently eager for an answer also. She swallowed again, to no avail. Her mouth and throat were as dry as one of Professor Binn's history of magic lectures.

"N-no. I don't." There was a brief, shining moment of stillness. Lily feared she had said the wrong thing. Time slowed, she knew this was it. She couldn't take anything back now. She'd have to accept the ruling, whatever it was. Would her family be allowed to come and visit her in Azkaban? Would they want to, it being the home to serial killers and other Dark witches and wizards? Ogden pushed his spectacles up his nose and went back to his parchment. What was the man doing, drawing a freaking dragon?

"And, in this serious matter, you felt the need to bring in a character reference in the form of one Mr. James Potter?" As abruptly as it had slowed, time sped up again. Laughter echoed throughout the packed courtroom and Lily felt her cheeks burn to rival the shade of her hair. James laughed along with them, and Lily heard Lupin chuckle underneath his breath. Suddenly his friendship with James made quite a bit more sense. Lupin cleared his throat, continuing to do so until the courtroom returned to order.

"Your Honour, in light of this line of questioning, I do not believe we require Mr. Potter after all." Now, Lily would have breathed a huge sigh of relief if he mind hadn't immediately flooded with a hundred other questions and accusations. No character reference? They were bargaining on that to make her seem like a respectable witch who, in a time of emotional crisis, lapsed sensible thought. She was going to get off scott-free, that was the plan wasn't it, to be found not guilty? She turned in James' direction for help, but he looked just as surprised as she did. He didn't give her a charming smile or cocky wave; he just sat back into his seat, gobsmacked. Lupin moved from behind the table, pacing the floor between Lily and the benches of Wizengamot members.

"My client was a Prefect then Head Girl at Hogwarts, an upholder of laws, an officer of the law if you would. My client understands that what she did was wrong. My client clearly regrets Disapparating in front of the Muggle as a lack of proper judgment. My client has never used magic inappropriately before Muggles previously. I believe, if the Wizengamot agrees, that an official warning and lesser punishment will suffice." The courtroom again dissolved into murmurs and whispers. Flashes went off in just about every direction again. Lily glanced around the room, trying to get a general idea of the mood. The Wizengamot did not look impressed, but Bob Ogden was evidently tolerant of Lupin's input, staring down at him over his spectacles the way a teacher would.

"And what would you suggest as punishment, Mr. Lupin?" Lupin returned to his table and papers.

"My client is to have no further contact with the Muggle involved, the Muggle in question will have his memory erased, if the Ministry has not already done so, and my client is barred from the use of Apparation for a period of time." Once again, the courtroom dissolved into silence. Who was the man trying to kid? A serious offence of the Statute of Secrecy and she would be let off? There was no way that the Wizengamot would agree to that! Lily prepared herself to face the Dementors and kissed her soul goodbye. Several glances of disbelief were exchanged around the Wizengamot. Bob Ogden cleared his throat.

"I will put it to a vote." Ogden turned in his chair to face the entire Wizengamot, "All those in favour of giving the accused the _correct _sentence required under the violation of Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statute of Secrecy, raise your hand." Roughly half of the hands went up, and with each hand, a death glare at Lily. Bob Ogden did not raise his hand.

"All those in favour of honouring Mr. Lupin's suggestion, raise your hand." Again, around half of the hands were raised – the members of the Wizengamot who had not voted for the other option. Lily couldn't see any clear difference in number, and judging by the murmur that rang through the courtroom, neither could the press. Evelyn Giles tapped away at her typewriter.

"Miss Giles, the final tally please." Ogden held out his hand and accepted the piece of parchment that the secretary had ripped from the typewriter. He studied it for some time, and made some more notes.

"Considering Miss Evan's character, lack of previous offences and her clear remorse, the Wizengamot accepts the lesser punishment offered by her legal defence." Lily's eyes widened and she broke into a huge grin, "Lily Evans, you are banned from having any contact with the Muggle Tristan Sterling. Mr. Sterling's memory will be erased. Your Apparation license will be suspended for two years from today, after which you will have to retake the test."

Lily jumped up from the chair, feeling as light as a feather.

"I'm not going to Azkaban?" She questioned. This was a joke, they had to be kidding. Maybe she was unconscious, having fainted in shock from hearing what was surely the inevitable. Ogden stared her down from his chair on the Wizengamot bench, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Not unless you want to, Miss Evans." Lily's cheeks hurt from the beam she had pasted on her face as she ran towards the audience benches, towards James. He'd leapt over the barrier, joining her on the floor, sharing her massive grin. Lily barely noticed the courtroom exploding in outcry as she ran into James' outstretched arms, shaking with emotion. Apparently the media had been hoping for a different outcome.

"This is stupid!" One woman who stood where James had just been sitting shrieked, "Why don't you just release those twin serial killers from Azkaban while you're at it?"

"How 'bout we all go out and kill some Muggles? If we're tried today, we'll get off scot-free!" a burly man with an even larger camera bellowed.

The roars from the reporters, photographers and other audience members seemed a world away. Lily felt tears streak down her face as she nestled herself in James' arms, protected by him from the predatory media. She was crying because she was happy, wasn't she? She hadn't suffered enough emotional turmoil to be sad about not going to Azkaban. She wasn't stupid enough to look forward to the Dementors? She was free, with limitations of course, but she could deal with that. She didn't need Tristan; she had friends like Izzy Skeptor, her career, her lifestyle, all in magical world now.

James pulled away from her slightly, lifting her chin with his index finger. They locked eyes. He looked so handsome in his dress robes and silly pointed hat, and Lily really loved his insanely messy hair and wireframe glasses. He was smart, not overly dependent or independent; boyfriend material. She acted on impulse, pulling his head down with both hands to meet their lips together.

Lily knew exactly why she loved the magical world. Of course, she wasn't going to tell _him _that.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Whew. Long chapter._

_Thanks again for all the feedback, guys!_

_-xSymnia  
_


	11. 158th Annual

**CHAPTER TEN: The 158****th**** Annual Puddlemere v. Montrose Christmas Charity Match**

* * *

**6:15 pm. Day One Hundred and Twelve with Evans. Current objective: Where. Are. His. Quidditch. Robes?**

* * *

She'd hidden them, she must have. It was the only logical explanation as to why he couldn't find them. This was payback for everything that he'd done – mocking her complete lack of aiming ability, stealing her chocolate-coated hazelnuts, going out with Sirius last Saturday night and coming home roaring drunk. But this, this was a truly evil act. Hiding his robes the night of the 158th Annual Puddlemere v. Montrose Christmas Charity Quidditch Match was just pure evil. And he wouldn't put it past her to do something like that.

James slammed the wardrobe door shut, finally admitting that his robes weren't in there. He glanced at his bedside alarm clock; he was meant to meet Lily in ten minutes. He wouldn't be able to play without his Puddlemere robes, and without their best Chaser, Puddlemere was sure to lose this match. They weren't going to let Montrose have the bragging rights for another year. Not after the horror of last year. They weren't going to suffer another humiliating defeat, not now that they'd taken out the League Cup. James groaned and kicked the wardrobe in frustration. What was he going to do if he couldn't find them? Borrow Sirius'? No, he was much skinnier than Sirius, they'd flap around him like wings and he didn't need the press calling him by a nickname now. He could see the headline now; _Britain's Newest Magical Creature: the Potterbird_. Lily would have a fit.

The 158th Annual Puddlemere v. Montrose Christmas Charity Match would be their first public outing since their nomination for _Witch Weekly's _Worst Couple of the Year award – an award which Sirius prided himself on receiving for the last three consecutive years, with three different girls (and James knew that he had no plans of letting him live it down either). Lily however, hadn't taken too kindly to the nomination; James' shoulder was still healing from where she'd hit him with an empty coffee mug upon seeing the article. He winced at the memory.

This charity match had been tradition for Puddlemere, Montrose and Quidditch fans alike for more than a century; known as one of the sport's most brutal friendly games. It was the press event of the year, every media outlet from _Witch Weekly _to _Quidditch Today _to _The Quibbler _would have a journalist or three in place. Notable players of the night were known to be offered lucrative sponsorships and deals with large companies, which was perhaps the most important part of the night, in Lily's eyes at least. She had decided that tonight was time for the two of them to shine; she was putting it upon herself to make sure that James had a sponsor by the end of the night and that their reputation as a celebrity couple was salvaged. But of course, the night really wasn't about him or Puddlemere United, it was about the charity (at least, that was the line that Lily had drilled into him for the past week). All proceeds went to the _St. Mungo's Hospital Fund for Victims of Creature-Induced Injuries and Spell Damage_, the people who really needed the help and enjoyment of the match. The game was all for their benefit…bragging rights for the winning Quidditch team was just a bonus.

Two minutes left. Merlin knew what Lily would do to him if they were late, and James didn't intend on finding out. He balled his hair up in his fists as he desperately scoped the bedroom again, searching for the familiar navy and gold. And then at last, he spotted them, poking out from under his bed. He didn't question how they got there; he just grabbed them and stuffed them into the bag, not even bothering with folding them as Lily would have wanted him to. James checked himself once over in the mirror and messed up his hair a little more.

Sure that his new emerald green dress robes would be a hit for Lily and the media alike, James grinned at himself and disappeared from the bedroom with a loud _crack_.

* * *

**6:35 pm. Day One Hundred and Twelve of official employment. Current mood: stunned. Utterly stunned.**

* * *

Lily had never seen Puddlemere Stadium so busy. The main entrance and entire northern side had been decorated from the top to the bottom with Puddlemere and Montrose posters, several hundred images of the same fourteen Quidditch players in their respective colours smiled and waved down at the crowd congregating in front of the doors. At the base of the stadium, thousands of witches and wizards donned in their best dress robes stood behind large metal barriers on either side of a purple sparkly carpet. Some had their hands outstretched over the barriers; they were yelling, screaming and holding posters and photographs over the barrier in hope of an autograph. Others were trying to get photos with their preferred player. Some just looked happy to have gotten tickets to this obviously prestigious event, wearing oversized grins and taking in every detail of the night.

Roughly sixty media personalities were running up and down the purple carpet, all wearing their press passes with excessive pride, armed with their Quick Quotes Quills and enchanted flying notepads, speaking practically in whispers to their interviewees so they could get an exclusive statement. In the middle of the carpet, there were women clinging onto their Quidditch player boyfriends and husbands, dressed in ghastly clothing that Lily assumed to be high-fashion – they appeared to have attempted to mix Muggle fashion with wizard dress robes which resulted in what looked like a glittery clown suit. Then there were the Quidditch players, holding onto their broomsticks as if they were children, clearly enjoying the attention they were getting. Lily was utterly stunned. She had expected nothing like this to happen at a supposedly friendly charity match. This seemed more like the Muggle Academy Awards.

Lily clutched James' arm a little tighter. She felt her senses of sight and hearing slip away – the flashes from every angle and the screams from the fans were truly debilitating. How on earth did people survive events like this? Before they could take three steps down the carpet, two witches who wore matching baby pink dress robes swooped in on them. The _Rumours!_ logo on their press passes glowed the same colour as their robes. Lily started wondering if this were deliberate as the two immediately started bombarding them with questions.

"How do you feel about this _Witch Weekly _Worst Couple nomination, Lily? Proud? Aghast?" The shorter of the two questioned, flipping her chocolate-coloured hair over her shoulder, "Surely you expected something like thisto happen when you started dating James Potter!" The witch's Quick Quotes Quill hovered right above her shoulder, ready to scribble down her reply. Lily felt her mouth go dry. What was she doing? What was her problem? She'd prepared for this, and yet, no answer came to her. James laughed and pulled Lily closer to his side.

"Lily was certainly surprised about it." He said, smiling a little too much to be natural, "Me? I just hope I can end Sirius' reign of terror." The two witches giggled, their quills scribbling down his hilarious line. The taller of the two, who also wore a pink feather in her hair, rolled out a piece of parchment, undoubtedly filled with questions.

"How do you feel about tonight, James? Do you believe that winning the League Cup has inspired some confidence in Puddlemere? Especially after that _humiliating _defeat from last year, what was it? 305 to 40?" James again smiled, but it was nowhere near as friendly. Lily had only heard stories of Puddlemere's greatest loss during the 157th Annual Puddlemere v. Montrose Christmas Charity Match. On top of what happened in last years' Quidditch season, it seemed that it hadn't been their year at all.

"The Puddlemere United team is _always _confident …." James glanced at her press pass, "Bianca. Montrose won't know what hit 'em by the end of the night." Bianca's Quick Quotes Quill obediently scratched down his reply, but she obviously had wanted a more controversial statement. She stepped closer to James, so that she was face to face with him. Lily eyed her, unimpressed. Bianca spoke softly; she clearly didn't want Lily to hear what she was saying. Most of her words got swallowed up in the deafening cheers of the crowd nearby; the captain of the Montrose Magpies, Philippe Baxter, had arrived.

"How do you feel…she's done…title…this time last year…sources say…._messy_…something you wish to say?" James locked eyes with Lily for a moment before answering. She turned away, feeling her cheeks burn. Who did this woman think she was, whispering to James right in front of his girlfriend? She was probably trying to get a photo of them together, James looking like a filthy rotten cheater. Oh no, Lily wasn't going to have that. She'd worked too hard for that to happen.

"Excuse-"

"What about you, Lily?" The other witch cut across her, startling her. "This time last year, I believe you were still at Hogwarts. Quite a first job, isn't it? Working for a Quidditch player like _him."_ The shorter witch had also stepped closer; she was almost on Lily's toes. Something wasn't right with this, these _Rumours! _journalists wanted something. Lily didn't have to wait long to find out what, "Your little escape from Azkaban has been the topic of the year! But nobody understands _why _you Disapparated in front of that Muggle. So why don't you straighten this out for all of us, hmm? W_hy did you feel the need to_?" Lily felt James' grip on her arm tighten. Before she had a chance to answer the question, he had pulled Lily down the purple carpet and into the change-rooms, where the press could not enter. Lily didn't protest.

The Puddlemere United change-rooms where completely deserted. Lily watched James unceremoniously dump his bag on the bench. She said nothing.

"Sorry about that. I'd forgotten how rude those _Rumours! _girls were." James was clearly fighting to keep his voice level. His toothy grin didn't fool her. Something that Bianca from _Rumours! _had said had angered him. But he wasn't going to admit that. Lily studied him as he continued to avoid her gaze and pulled out his wrinkled Puddlemere robes (what in Merlin's name did he do to them?) and laid them carefully across his bag. He certainly wasn't as enthusiastic about this match as he had been ten minutes ago.

"What did that Bianca ask you?" She knew it was no use, but she had to try. James shrugged as if it were no big deal. Both he and Lily knew better.

"She was asking if I thought hiring you was a good idea. After Alison and that Paris thing." James finally turned and faced her. The irritated expression he wore completely ruined how handsome he looked in his new dress robes.

"And what did you say?" she asked. In response, James strode towards her and wrapped her up in his arms. Lily smiled into his chest and returned the hug.

"I wouldn't want anyone else." The strange, annoyed feeling that she had just been lied to was sent to the back of Lily's mind. She instead chose to enjoy being wrapped up in the warmth of his embrace, in the silence of the deserted change-room. They remained entwined together for a long time, until the door loudly burst open and the rest of the Puddlemere team entered the change-room. James had clearly brought his girlfriends in before, because not one of the other Puddlemere players were fazed by their rude breaking up of a moment. Lily recognised Sirius' voice yelling over the chaos that was the rest of the team.

"You don't have time for a quickie, James. We're meant to be in the air in ten. Coach'll chuck a fit if we're missing a Chaser! I hear he's got good money and a case of Firewhiskey riding on our win."

James and Lily broke apart. They eyed each other for a moment.

"Have a good game." Lily said, as brightly as she possibly could. She turned and left the change-room, fully aware of James' eyes following her out. A loud, macho chant of "Puddlemere" began as soon as she closed the door behind her.

* * *

The top box of Puddlemere Stadium seemed a hell of a lot lower from the ground. Lily felt dizzy from the sudden change in air pressure when the lift reached the top floor, her floor, a good hundred stories up. How Quidditch fans dealt with this lack of oxygen every game was beyond her. Perhaps increased exposure to such heights made them immune. Lily used the wall for support as she made her way to the furthest door down the hallway, well aware that the mix of a change in air pressure and the pair of insanely high heels she wore made her appear tipsy. She just hoped that she reached the relative privacy of the box before some other media personality found her like this.

The relative privacy of the top box had no privacy at all, but Lily needn't have worried; it was two minutes before the start of the match and the Puddlemere and Montrose teams had already graced the airspace, providing enough entertainment for everyone else in the box to not see her. Lily wobbled her way to the furthest seat from the plate glass window; in the back row, beside an older wizard who seemed more interested in the photos in the programme than the actual game. Truthfully, Lily would have been happy to enjoy the match in the cheapest seats, which were right at the bottom of the stadium. At least they weren't at some ridiculous altitude and she could enjoy the game without feeling dizzy or nauseous from the height. But no, the girlfriends and wives of the Puddlemere team were granted one of the best boxes of the stadium, and expected to use it. They shouldn't be socializing with the common folk like the fans.

Soon enough, the referee of the match joined the fourteen players in the air. His magically enhanced voice echoed throughout the stadium, and Lily could clearly hear him reminding both teams that there was nothing gained from winning this match and it had no effect whatsoever on their standings during the next Quidditch season. Lily noticed that many in the front row were sniggering at these words. There was a brief pause in the referee's speech as James and the Montrose captain shook hands, and then a deafening cheer from the packed stadium as the Quaffle, Bludgers and Snitch were released.

Thankfully, from her seat at the back, Lily couldn't see what was happening. She didn't mind of course. If she were any closer to the window and that frightening height, she would likely pass out. No, this seat was good for her, in decent range of both the buffet and the bar.

A quarter of an hour in and Montrose had taken the lead by forty points. The attendants of the box had gradually began migrating towards the bar, perhaps what they saw as the only way to get through the night. Lily soon joined them – Merlin knew how long it would be until the Snitch was caught. As she made her way to the bar, she studied the other people of the box. A group of tall, slim, twenty-something-year-old women stood in a large circle on the left hand side of the bar, each with a glass of champagne in one hand. They looked like they were having a ball, perhaps this was the biggest event of their year, Lily mused. Three older men, including the one who had been sitting next to her earlier, were grouped on the opposite side of the bar, having an in-depth discussion over the coming Quidditch season ("Puddlemere will lose its first heat. Last season was just a fluke!"). And at the centre there were two women, both wearing short black dresses instead of robes, leaning against the bar engrossed in their conversation. They were also blocking Lily from the bar. As Lily drew closer, one of the women became more and more familiar.

"Merlin, I thought she was about to have a heart attack, the way she was ranting on! So of course I cut across her - there's no other way to grab that girl's attention, honestly –and then she gives me some lecture about treating people properly when they're able to ruin your life with one article. The nerve of her! I haven't had to deal with someone like that in _years_. Though, I admit, there was this one reporter I had the displeasure of working with back when I first started with Har-" Lily stopped in her tracks as the woman abruptly ended her conversation, a smile playing upon her purple lips.

"Lily!" Izzy Skeptor said, almost in disbelief, "I was told you'd be here, but I didn't see you. I looked all around and thought that you might have gotten lost, since you're obviously not used to big events like this, but I decided that if I didn't see you after the first hour, I'd have someone from reception page you, but I didn't _really_ want to do that, I mean, how embarrassing would that be? Harvey did that to me once when I first started at Rancorn, I've never forgiven him for it, obviously, but it was an important lesson as a publicist, so I had no reservations over doing to the same to you. Oh, but come here, there's someone I think you should meet."

The young witch who Izzy had been talking to eyed Lily with mild recognition, but Lily recognised her all too well.

She was now face to face with Alison Stern.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_I'm really sorry for the long wait! I meant to finish this chapter before exams and that didn't exactly go to plan._

_As always, thank you so much for all the positive feedback! It means a lot!_

_-xSymnia  
_


	12. Blasphemy

**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Blasphemy**

* * *

**7:16 pm. Day One Hundred and Twelve of official employment. Current mood: stunned. Utterly stunned.**

* * *

Lily felt her blood boil, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the excessive heating in the top box. Alison Stern had no right to be here, amongst all the wives, girlfriends and other close family of the Puddlemere United team – she had her chance last year, when _she _was James' publicist. Alison wasn't going to get anywhere near James on Lily's watch. If her career was falling to pieces, then she wasn't using James to get back on top. Lily had worked too hard to let Alison walk all over her again. But, judging from the expensive dress she wore, the glass of bubbling champagne in her hand and the know-it-all smirk on her face, she wasn't attending this match as a last-ditch shot at fame. She actually looked quite in her element, surrounded by celebrities and fame. It made Lily hate her all the more.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here, Alison?" Alison's smile widened, as if she had only just noticed Lily, and she brought herself and her champagne glass over, arms wide and welcoming.

"_Lily!_" She gushed. Her voice was airy and light, and to anyone else who was in the box, she could have been Lily's best friend from Hogwarts. Lily knew better however, and evidently Izzy did too. She pushed herself between the two of them before Alison had a chance to break her glass and stab Lily in the back (metaphorically speaking, of course), under the guise of a hug.

"I didn't realise you two knew had already met." Izzy said, her devil's eyes glaring daggers at them both. They said enough, "no fighting here, not in front of all these witnesses". She flicked her wand and another crystal glass zoomed over, placing itself in Lily's open hand. Only when Izzy saw two curt nods from left and right did she step away, still unsure that neither Alison nor Lily would attack. Alison and Izzy moved back to the relative privacy of the bar; where the other groups nearby were either too drunk or too engrossed in another conversation to listen in. Lily followed suit, not moving her attention off Alison.

"Been a while, hasn't it Lily?" Alison flicked her long, curly blonde hair over her shoulder and giggled, looking past the crowded box and onto the game outside. Lily was sure she was searching for the navy and gold robes with "Potter" emblazed on them, "How's it working with James? Quite a job you've gotten yourself, isn't it?" She followed her gaze out the plate glass window, very glad that she couldn't see the ground and ant-sized crowd below. What did she mean, "quite a job"? It was the hardest job in the magical world, and Alison was well aware of that! _She_ was the one who made it so damn impossible!

James shot past the window, chasing after the Quaffle that had been thrown from the opposite end of the pitch. A huge cheer quickly followed – he'd caught it.

"I'm having fun with it." Lily answered, putting on the same fake grin as Alison. She took a sip of her champagne, "It's certainly not what I expected." Alison again laughed, loud enough for the wizard who Lily had been sitting beside previously to turn and stare.

"James is not what _anyone_ could have expected." She replied, a definite smug tone to her voice, "Although from what I hear, he's working to turn his life around. I must say, that's a risky move, Lily. I didn't think that was how you'd work when I hired _you _as _my_ successor." Lily did everything in her power to stop herself from launching at Alison and wiping that smug grin off her face. Alison had clearly meant to have a go at her when she emphasised the fact that _she_ was James' publicist first. What a little bit-

"I'm sure Lily is doing very well in her new position." Izzy's strangely neutral resonance cut across Lily's daydreams of getting her hands around Alison's throat, "Aside from that scrape with the Ministry of course, not that I blame you – when in Paris, as the Muggles say - but that lawyer of yours did an _excellent _job. Who was it, a friend of yours from Hogwarts? I may need him judging from the way my marriage is heading…"

"His name is Remus Lupin, and _I_ found him for James when he first started getting into trouble." Alison deliberately avoided Lily's glare and continued to pretend that she was absorbed by the match. There was an unmistakable superior tone in her voice. Lily reminded herself of the consequences for killing someone in front of the box full of witnesses as she turned to Izzy, doing her best to ignore the woman standing on the other side of her.

"He is a friend of James'. I believe they knew each other _before _Puddlemere." Izzy pursed her lips and nodded, as if she were interested in nothing more than James Potter's relationships prior to his Quidditch career.

"I don't keep contact with many people from _my _time at Hogwarts. It was _so_ long ago, of course, much before your time, but McGonagall was Head of Gryffindor back then. Still, so it wasn't _really_ long ago. There was this one girl, Jenna Morsillo, lovely girl, who helped me through all my O. and N.E.W.T.s studies, without her I wouldn't have passed as well as I did. I believe she's an Auror now – she certainly started the training – she was one of the two they took on that year. Oh, I'm so proud! But of course, because of the training and all, I never got to talk to her much after Hogwarts and her training started – it's horrible as well, character aptitude tests and practical assessments – I _did _run into her at a press conference with Harvey when I was interning, she looked quite sick if I remember correctly, _or was that somebody else_? Oh, it doesn't matter. But no, my point is that it isn't hard to keep up with your old friends after you graduate from Hogwarts, providing you put the time into it!" Izzy's rant almost completely washed over Lily – there was a huge commotion in the box. The Puddlemere Seeker had spotted the Snitch, and so had the Montrose one from the noise of the crowd. It was a high-speed race to catch the tiny golden ball.

Alison Stern apparently invested much more of herself into the game than Lily did; she was yelling and cheering the loudest out of the people at the back of the box. But, as Lily soon realised, she wasn't cheering on the Puddlemere Seeker, Benjy Williams. She was cheering someone else's name – quite lovingly, in fact. Philippe Baxter.

Philippe Baxter was the Captain and Seeker of the Montrose Magpies; perhaps Puddlemere's biggest rival in the British and Irish Quidditch League, hence the Christmas Charity Match each year. Alison, who had worked with Puddlemere for close to a year, should have known this. She _surely _knew this. She wasn't cheering on the Seeker of the Montrose Magpies to get a rise out of Lily or anyone else at the bar, she was doing this on her own accord – what blasphemy! She was backing the Montrose Magpies! She was not going to get away with this – she shouldn't be in this box, she shouldn't be here at all!

"Izzy, could you give us a moment?" Izzy stopped mid-sentence and stared aghast at Lily's rudeness. She was clearly not accustomed to being interrupted – Izzy Skeptor did _not _get interrupted. After a moment of mute anger, Izzy stalked off, muttering about Azkaban and Killing Curses. Outside, the Snitch had disappeared again, disguised in the flashes of cameras from all angles of the stadium. Alison had gone quiet again, unfazed by Lily's death glare or Izzy's absence.

"I'll ask you again. _What the hell are you doing here_?" Alison had gotten herself another glass of champagne; she downed them as if they were double-strength skim mocha cappuccinos. She still had a large, ugly smirk playing on her firehouse-red lips.

"As you can see Lily, I'm here to support my Quidditch team, just like everyone else." Lily could tell that Alison knew she was fooling no one, but theatrics called for her to play coy for now. Perhaps she hoped that someone would spot the Snitch again before she had to answer any controversial questions. She had no such luck.

"I believe you're in the wrong box then. The Montrose box is on the _southern_ end." Alison licked her lips, finally spinning to her right to face Lily.

"Izzy saw me and invited me in. I was actually on my way to the Montrose box…" she hesitated with a small laugh, no doubt for dramatic effect, "to support my fiancée." Alison flashed the large, emerald ring on her left hand, the one that wasn't holding the champagne. Lily almost dropped her own glass. Of all the possible, plausible reasons for Alison Stern to be in the Puddlemere box, or even the 158th Annual Puddlemere v. Montrose Christmas Charity Match, Lily hadn't seen that one coming. Alison Stern _engaged_? She had to be kidding, but Alison stood there and smiled once again. She had obviously planned this conversation from the moment she was invited –James Potter and his new girlfriend Lily Evans were sure to be in attendance.

Lily glanced in disbelief between the huge gemstone on Alison's hand and the smug grin on her face. Engaged? To whom? Who in their right mind would want to marry Alison Stern? The woman laughed again, but this one was more natural, almost…embarrassed?

"Tonight was when the press was supposed to spot the ring – our first public event together since the engagement. They love us, you know, the public. They've been very supportive since we first got together in June. But unfortunately, not everything went to plan as you can see. Surely _you _can sympathise?" Alison stared Lily in the eye, "Someone's nomination for Worst Couple of the Year has outshone the public favourites' engagement. What a scandal it is! The two who were nominated for the opposite title last year first breaking up, then splitting into the favourites and most hated! Who would've thought?" The embarrassed tone didn't carry over from her giggle. At once, Alison Stern again changed her demeanor to the one Lily knew all too well – a predator eyeing off her prey. Lily was instantly back in her sky-high office, but it wasn't her sitting in the chair behind the desk, it was Alison and her Quick Quotes Quill.

"Nominated?" It was the only thing Lily could question, she was in shock. Surely hearing of the engagement of her arch enemy couldn't reduce her to shock, could it? She was better than this, honestly! And yet, she stood at the bar beside Alison Stern, numb and in a dream-like state. Nothing felt real.

"That'swhy the press was _so_ interested in you two. James, who was a star Quidditch player with some bad boy tendencies and a loving girlfriend was the press' favourite topic thanks to me. We won Best Couple of the Year last Christmas. He didn't tell you that? Oh well, that's James for you. Keeps things under his hat, does James. You didn't think the press hated you because of the Azkaban thing, did you? Merlin, no!" Alison laughed rather cruelly, "I thought you were supposed to be smart, Lily. Those seven N.E.W.T.s you so proudly displayed on your resume, I was under the impression that they _meant _something." Lily wanted to bite back with all she had, put Alison in her place, but nothing came. All she could do was question.

"They liked _you?_" At this point, Alison seemed to have grown tired of teasing Lily with this revelation. She sighed and shook her head, acting as though she were a mother explaining the simplest ways of the world to a child.

"You didn't honestly think that James was so popular because he was seen _partying_ every other night?" Alison scoffed, "That wasn't enough to keep the media hanging on! But a love story, blossoming between him and his best friend-slash-publicist, well they certainly enjoyed that! He became known because of his relationship with _me_! We provided the best entertainment of the year, ergo the _Witch Weekly _nomination. And then, everything started to fall to pieces. Rumours of James' illicit affairs, then the announcement of a new publicist. No one knew what happened to the wizarding world's favourite couple! But then, just a week after his girlfriend leaves the position as his publicist, James Potter suddenly has a new one! Well, _I_ certainly could put two and two together!"

A loud roar from the stadium's crowd announced that Philippe Baxter had spotted the Snitch again. Lily saw a monochrome figure shoot past the window, chasing the golden Snitch towards the south-west corner of the stadium. Alison left Lily alone and rushed over to the window as fast as her incredibly high heels and short skirt would take her. Lily slumped against the bar counter, in complete and utter shock. This couldn't be happening. Alison Stern was engaged to the Captain of the Montrose Magpies. She and James had won _Witch Weekly's_ Best Couple of the Year Award last Christmas. The public had loved them, loved them _together._ That was what Alison's angle had been. That was why James hadn't questioned Lily's own angle; he'd done it all before. Lily had been the fall girl to Alison's perfect plan – the one who picked up all the hatred when she decided to move onto better things, namely an important internship at the best company in Europe. She had fallen into Alison's trap, doing just as she had intended her to, and looking like an idiot doing so!

Never in Lily's life had she hated anyone as much as Alison Stern.

* * *

Lily barely noticed that Philippe Baxter had caught the Snitch. She barely noticed that Puddlemere suffered a humiliating defeat of 10 points. She barely noticed the gradual emptying of the top box to the point that it was only her left, collapsed in her chair in the back row, staring out into the distant stadium. The night's events flooded her mind, but those memories brought others. Alison Stern's engagement leading to her original breakup with James, going back to Lily's appointment and the strange questions of the interview, _"Are you taken, married or divorced? Are you attracted to Mr. Potter?"._ Then to her first meeting with the man, _"I'm supposed to make you look good, Potter." James spun around with all the grace of a dancer, "What's the fun in that?"_ That lead to their first dinner together, "_It isn't the first time I've been accused of sleeping with someone"._

There was a knock on the open door to the box. Lily spun around in her seat to see who it was, only to realise it was the one person she never wanted to see again, James Potter, Chaser. She gave him her coldest glare.

"What do _you_ want?" James seemed puzzled by her icy attitude. He quickly moved to the five rows of chairs, dropped his Quidditch bag and knelt down beside Lily, who sat on the aisle chair. His hand went to hold hers, but she crossed her arms across her chest before he could. They locked eyes; Lily noted that he looked a little hurt. Served him about bloody right.

"You said you'd meet me in the changerooms so I could take you home. I figured you'd be here." James shifted so he was closer to her, "Lily, what's wrong?" Without thinking, she'd stood up and stormed to the other side of the block of chairs, as if they provided protection from him. Her fists were clenched and she was seething with anger. How could he pretend not to know what was wrong?

"What's wrong? _What's wrong?_ You have the nerve to come in here and ask me what the bloody hell is wrong?" James had stood up too, complete confusion painted on his face. Well, he was one damn good actor. "Guess who I ran into today, huh James? Alison Stern, who is soon to be Mrs. Alison Baxter. Funny how things work out, huh James? Your ex-girlfriend, who you just _happened _to win Best Couple of the Year Award with this time last year, was here tonight. She just _happens _to be getting married to your rival teams' captain! Oh, let's not stop here. What about the fact that you just _happened _to forget to tell me that were nominated for said award in the first place, or the fact that you and Alison just _happened _to be the world's most favourite couple, or the fact that you knew damn well why the public hates me and you just kept that little secret to yourself or the fact that you just _stood there_ _and smiled _while I was out there making a fool of myself pretending to be your girlfriend!" By now, Lily was screaming at the top of her voice and she felt like she was about to burst with anger. James' face started to twist with recognition. What was that, anguish? He looked away for a moment, while Lily caught her breath. When he spoke, his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

"Alison's engaged? She's engaged? T-to Baxter?" Was that _all _he had taken from Lily's outburst? He just _ignored _everything that _he_ had done and was instead focusing on his ex-girlfriend? Lily had had enough. If he wanted to play coy about his role in the ruining of her reputation, that was his choice. But Lily wasn't going to let him forget that. Not for a long time. While James continued to stare out into the distance, she wasted no time striding up to be toe-to-toe with him. As he turned to face her, Lily's palm connected with his cheek. James swore as his head whipped sideways and instinctively put his own hand to where she had slapped him. They met eyes again, Lily felt hers well up with tears.

"Y-You knew. You knew that Alison had planned al-all of this. You knew exactly what I _shouldn't _have done as your publicist, what I should've done _instead_ and you kept quiet? You knew that I was just a-asking for everything to fall to pieces? You l-led me on _all this time _knowing exactly what you were doing, ho-how much everyone hated me, and why they hated me, you never thought to tell me? You lied to me, James!" Lily sniffed and blinked away the tears that were very close to falling, "You lied to me and you betrayed my trust and you're asking _me_ what's wrong?" James looked almost as upset as she was.

"Lily, I'm sorry. I thought you knew what you were doing, so I-I didn't question it." He chuckled slowly, trying to ease the tension, "Lemme take you home. We'll talk this over, it's been a long day." James moved to take her hand again so he could Apparate them both, but Lily stepped back, holding it up.

"No. I don't want to be anywhere near you. Not now." Lily was still avoiding his gaze when James Disapparated from the top box alone, leaving her to sink back into her chair and burst into tears in private.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Well. This certainly puts a spin on things. Thanks again for all the amazing responses. I appreciate it so much!_

-_xSymnia  
_


	13. It's Good to be Back

**CHAPTER TWELVE: It's Good to be Back**

* * *

**7:45 am. Day One Hundred and Fifty-Eight with Evans. Current objective: Quidditch practice.**

* * *

Ah, it was good to be back.

Nearly two months without shooting hoops with a Quaffle and endless speed-flies up and down the stadium and James had almost forgotten how to play the beautiful game. But it didn't matter. This new regime of ten hour long training sessions in the lead up to the April kick-off for the Quidditch season would certainly get him back on top of his game. And considering how far off his game had been during the charity match, he certainly needed it. He wasn't going to let another team defeat them by one lousy goal this time. There was going to be no repeat of that horrible charity match. No, he was going to ace this season. No engagement of Phillipe Baxter to Alison Stern nor a month's worth of cold shoulders from Lily nor the humiliating defeat in the last game would stop him from doing so. That wasn't going to happen.

"All ready James?" Sirius had appeared beside him, sporting a rather uncharacteristic frown. James noticed dark circles under his eyes. He had clearly not woken up before noon over his holiday break, and didn't appreciate the sudden change of his routine by Coach's training regime. James started to feel cheated of his own sleep as he considered this, and instead focused his attention on the state of the stadium. The entire base of the pitch was covered by a thick layer of snow, the windows of the boxes had completely frosted over, and icicles had formed on both sets of the goal posts. Not the best conditions for a first day of training, but they'd played (and won) in worse.

"Better than you, I reckon." Sirius laughed and followed James' gaze across the pitch. He seemed to be thinking along similar lines.

"I'd like to see that prissy Baxter out here with us. What do ya reckon he and his team's gotten a sleep-in while we're out here, freezing our arses off?" To emphasise his point, Sirius mounted his broom and sped off into the stadium's airspace, where the cold wind against his face surely felt something like getting slapped by an iceberg. James' cheek tingled irritably at the thought of getting slapped, as it had for the last month and a half. What, had Lily put some sort of Memory Charm on her slaps so that they'd never forget them? He certainly didn't need the reminder; the icy glares he received every time he spoke to her were enough. James ignored the tingling and instead pursued Sirius. Ten hours of Quidditch would sort that out.

* * *

**10:22 am. Day One Hundred and Fifty-Eight of official employment. Current mood: melancholy.**

* * *

Lily's cloud-nine office was the last place she wanted to be. Funny, she'd never had a problem with the antique desk or extremely comfortable desk chair before. Nor had she considered how ugly the old filing cabinet was or how moth-ridden the chaise lounge in the corner probably was. Had it been her choice, she would have moved out by now. Found a better office, closer to home since she couldn't Apparate anymore. But it wasn't her choice; the office came with the job. So now she was here, sitting in Alison Stern's old chair at Alison Stern's old desk, doing Alison Stern's old job. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't considered resigning.

Who wanted this? A ceiling-high pile of permission forms and invitations, addressed to one James Potter, another huge pile of fanmail, a large proportion of which were requests for he and his ex-publicist to get back together. What was she, some sort of house elf? Lily lowered her head into her hands, groaning miserably. She'd dreaded coming into the office each and every day since the holidays. This couldn't have been all Alison's doing? Was this part of her perfect little plan too? To coerce Lily into resigning after she'd had her fun? Surely even Alison Stern wouldn't do that!

Lily took three deep breaths and sat back into her chair, forcing her attention onto the very nice ceiling. She wasn't here to wallow in self-pity about falling into Alison's trap and looking like a complete idiot to the public. She wasn't here to sob about how much she hated James Potter. No, she wasn't going to do either of those things. She was going to do her job. Yes, that was it. She was here, in her _work_ office, to do _work_. That was something Alison Stern had nothing to do with. Lily felt a smile come to her lips. She wasn't here for James anymore; she was here for her job.

After a few moments of sheer bliss, Lily came to realise the flaw in her musing. James Potter _was _her job, there was no denying that. Lily put her head in her hands again; her red hair formed a curtain around her face.

What was she meant to do? In any normal situation, she would be able to separate her professional and personal lives and then go on from there. In any normal situation, she would have been able to at least face her feelings and deal with them. In any normal situation, she wouldn't be anything like this! Lily felt her eyes water again, as they had done every time she went down this road lately. She couldn't do any of those things. She couldn't face James. She refused to face Alison again. She didn't want to work; she didn't want to go out. She wanted…she wanted sleep. That and a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino.

Lily drew out her breathing again. She took another three even, deep breaths.

One.

Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn't angry about looking like an idiot. She'd already done enough of that without Alison's help. She wasn't angry about getting nominated for the _Worst Couple of the Year _award. They hadn't won it. What was even the point?

Two.

She didn't really care about the _Best Couple of the Year _award either. She didn't care that the public loved Alison Stern. That they loved her with James.

Three.

What in Merlin's name was she thinking? She knew damn well why she'd been like this. It was all she'd been thinking about recently. Why she'd been ignoring James since Christmas. Why she hadn't returned to the office in nearly two months. Why she'd avoided all forms of media, sure that they'd mention something about him. What had hurt was that he, after everything that Alison had said and done…he still loved her…and he still put her before Lily. Tears escaped from Lily's eyes again and she collapsed onto the desk, shaking. She'd been stupid. She'd done everything that she promised herself she wouldn't do from when she first took the job. She promised herself she wouldn't fall for James Potter, Chaser. She promised herself that she'd make James Potter look like a saint, only to make him appear even worse off than before. She told herself she wouldn't be another Alison.

Well that one she hadn't done. She wasn't the one engaged to be married to the captain of the Montrose Magpies.

Her personal and professional lives had become intertwined. No, scrap that. Twisted and knotted to the point that it couldn't come unraveled. Poetic that it may be, it was the horrifying truth. She never liked poetry.

There was no way around this. One way or another, she was going to face him sometime. Sighing, Lily fished out a spare piece of parchment from her desk drawer and quill from underneath the pile of permission notes. She addressed the letter to James with only one sentence.

_We need to talk._

* * *

**1:03 pm. Day One Hundred and Fifty-Eight with Evans. Current objective: a well-earned lunchtime.**

* * *

Lying in the cold, fluffy snow with a warm thermos in hand was a surprisingly comfortable way to spend the short lunchtime the Puddlemere team received for five solid hours of flying. James had no problem with stretching out on the frozen terrain and enjoying the last few minutes of peace he had before spending a further five hours throwing Quaffles through twenty-five foot hoops. Merlin knew he needed it. His aim had actually been exceptionally good today, however tiring. Perhaps visualising the centre hoop as the smirking face of that prick Philippe Baxter had done him some good. James knew Sirius had had a good run by considering the other team they were practicing against to be a mixture of the most annoying Falmouth and Montrose players.

James took another sip of his chicken noodle soup. Yeah, it was good to be back.

The Puddlemere Quidditch Stadium fell into silence. Some, like Sirius, had fallen asleep in the comfort of the snow, tired from a late night and disgustingly early wakeup. Others, like his Keeper Perry, had brought the latest edition of _Which Broomstick? _along and were pouring over the new Nimbus 1799 model. Only Marvel, the reserve Seeker, who sat next to James seemed in any condition to talk. But he was too busy stuffing his face with what looked like dragon dung. James was left to savour the peace and quiet alone. He turned his head up to the sky, where grey clouds were beginning to gather again. Great. Playing in a blizzard would just make his day.

But then, something caught his eye. A small figure was making its way towards the stadium's airspace. In an instant, he realised what it was. Strange. Most owls learnt to avoid large, enclosed oval-shaped structures or get bowled over by idiots on brooms. But this one seemed to be on a mission. A letter? The owl had caught Marvel's eye too.

"Oi!" he yelled in his deep voice with a mouth half-full, "who forgot their lunch?" Marvel's yells had woken up the small circle of sleeping Quidditch players, who jolted awake as if shot with a Sparking Charm. Sirius caught on right away, ready with a mockery, as per usual.

"Which mummy's boy forgot the little note attached to their lunch box?" He laughed, getting to his feet. For some bizarre reason, unknown to James, his eyes turned straight to him.

"I didn't know your mum still packed your lunches, Prongs!" The owl cut diagonally through the stadium, coming to a halt right at James' feet. He ignored the laughs and jeers from the other players as he took the parchment it had clipped in its beak. He knew who it was from without so much as seeing the letter. No one could forget an owl with such comically huge ears. Sirius slid up next to him, reading the single sentence over his shoulder. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"Not your mum." It wasn't a question. The corners of James' mouth twitched.

"Lily." It happened quickly. A huge grin plastered itself on Sirius' face, and the next thing James knew, he was locked under his best mate's arm, his ear painfully close a source of bellowing.

"Prongs is gettin' laid! Prongs is gettin' laid!" The laughs and jeers at him supposedly getting his lunch brought to him quickly transformed into pats on the back and whistling. The Captain was getting lucky and that was definitely a good omen.

* * *

**6:35 pm. Day One Hundred and Fifty-Eight of official employment. Current mood: cumbersome.**

* * *

Her office was silent. Not even the grandfather clock on the opposite wall dared to make a sound. It was eerie and uncomfortable, a Muggle horror movie. Surely a madman would burst through the door at any moment now.

Lily sat straight up in her desk chair, continuously crossing and uncrossing her arms, unable to find a comfortable position. She didn't feel right, sitting here, much closer to one James Potter than she would have let herself to at any point in the last two months. She flicked her hair over her shoulders, then back again. She moved her arms so that her left was over her right, then back again. This wasn't right. Sitting here, locking gazes with James Potter, Chaser, across the desk. This was about as awkward as it could ever get. Lily cleared her throat - a deafening sound in the deathly silence.

"I've been unprofessional. And I'm sorry." She settled on placing her hands clasped together on the desk before her. James' eyes did not leave her own. She wished he would stop doing that, that he would look away, get distracted by something flying past the window. Nothing came. She felt herself start to shake again. No, she wasn't going to do this. He'd made his choice and she'd made hers. He wanted Alison, fine. Lily was still the woman who was going to make him acceptable for the press. She was still going to last a year with him. She was still going to get that portrait in the Hall of Fame.

Lily chose not to consider how unrealistic the latter now was. Alison Stern had taken that away from her too. She focused her attention back on James, who didn't look nearly as uncomfortable as she felt. He was one good actor. No one could be that relaxed. Nobody, after two months of separation, could be that unfazed with sitting face-to-face with the woman whose heart he broke and trust he betrayed.

"You don't have to be sorry, Lily. I'm sorry too." Sorry for what? For pretending to like her? For failing to stop her from looking like an idiot to the magical world? For still having feelings for an engaged-to-be-married woman? Such a classic move from the man. Implying a hell of a lot more than what was being said. They sat in silence for some time. Lily took a deep breath. This was the first step, separating the threads of her professional and personal lives. This was how she was going to go on from here.

"I am still your publicist of…regardless of what's happened." Her shaking got worse, and her eyes felt welt. She clasped her hands tighter, as if the pain from her nails digging into flesh would stop the tears from falling. His gaze still did not waver.

"You mean Alison? What she said?" James leaned forward in his chair, his stare intensifying. Lily finally turned her head, instead admiring the golden doorknob of her office door instead of him.

"It doesn't matter. The fact is, I'm still your publicist, so I am going to get you through this Quidditch season. Montrose will surely put up a fight after the charity match." Lily now turned her attention to the papers on her desk - searching for anything to distract her from the man across from her. She prayed that the small tangent of her Quidditch knowledge would be enough to throw him off her case. He was responsible for it, but he wasn't to get involved. This was her problem.

No such luck.

"Didn't you consider that Alison only said what she did to hurt you? This thing between you two, it was never about the job. As soon as she dumped me for that Baxter git, I knew she was planning something. She always is." Instinctively, perhaps, Lily met eyes with James again.

"Of course I considered that. Why else would she do it? But you know what? It worked, James. I should send her a card with my congratulations. Brilliant job, Alison, I bow down to you! Your plan worked!" Her tone had grown more sarcastic with each sentence, and by the last one her voice broke with it. Tears quickly began to stream down Lily's cheeks as she shook more violently than ever.

She didn't notice James leave his seat and move around the desk towards her until it was too late, when she felt his arms wrap themselves around her and pull her tightly against his body. Her immediate response was to fight back; what in Merlin's name was he doing? James loved Alison, she was sure of it. Why else had he acted the way he did at the charity match? Why had he not helped _her_? She should be pushing him away, this was no way to start separating her personal and professional lives! She should be fighting, she wasn't going to get played with again by him! Not if he still had feelings for Alison!

All of these protests were directed at a head that was not listening, and Lily soon entwined her arms around James. She stopped shaking.

"I'm sorry, Lily. I'm really sorry." Lily remained silent for a while, trying to take in everything about this moment, as if it were about to get ripped out from underneath her. Eventually, she responded by leaning back slightly, as to lock eyes with him again. Lily felt herself smile for what seemed like the first time in centuries.

"I'm sorry too." Their lips soon met.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter_

_You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for all the feedback!_

_-xSymnia_

**EDIT (17/6/11): **_Rewrote the final installment. Hopefully sorted out pacing and continuity issues.__  
_


	14. No More Games

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: No More Games, This Is War**

* * *

**5:30 am. Day One Hundred and Sixty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: slumbersome.**

* * *

Lily couldn't wait for Quidditch season to be over, and it hadn't even begun.

Her enchanted alarm clock was especially peppy that morning. It seemed to have taken Lily's previous threat that she and James couldn't be a second late to his Quidditch practice to heart, as it had starting ringing a good two hours before they were due there. Lily groaned and swore under her breath as she blindly groped her bedside table for the clock. Where was it? This wasn't the time to be playing hide and seek. Lily swore again as she knocked something and heard it fall to the floor with a clatter. Brilliant. She was ninety percent sure that was the half-empty mug of yesterday's double-strength skim mocha cappuccino. Ignoring the fact that it would most likely stain the carpet if she left it there, Lily continued to search sightlessly for the source of the endless, annoyingly high-pitched ringing, finally locating the culprit just beyond arm's reach at the far edge of the table. The cold air was torture for her arm, and Lily hastily punched the 'off' switch and threw the clock to the floor before returning her limb to the safety of the warm bed. Her ears still rang as she rolled over and snuggled deeper into the duvet. She was in no state to leave any time soon. In a moment, the body beside her began to stir and speak in barely coherent sentences.

"What time…is it?" yawned James. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, apparently content with letting her deal with the alarm-clock catastrophe alone. Lily grumbled and grudgingly stuck her arm out into the chill again, scooping up the now irritable alarm clock from the floor. She opened her eyes barely long enough to spot the time.

"Five-thirty." Lily replied, tossing the clock carelessly back to the floor. It yelped as it hit the coffee-stained carpet, but she ignored it, instead wrapping the duvet tighter around her and James and settling back into a state of semi-sleep.

"What is your clock doing, waking us up…." he yawned again mid-sentence, "at _this hour?_" Lily almost didn't answer; she didn't have the energy to, she was stuck somewhere between sleep and reality, unable to sense or hear properly. It was too early for bickering. Too early for anything_._ She needed another hour or so before she could do anything productive.

"I don't know." Lily yawned too, "We'll use _your_ one next time. The one that goes off late and then swears at you until you throw it across the room." The corners of her mouth would have twitched into a smile if she had the energy or the willingness. But at this ungodly hour, the best she could do was a half-hearted smirk. James didn't seem to notice. He didn't seem to be completely on his game either, as he simply – and childishly – replied,

"Well at least _my_ alarm clock knows to wake you at a decent hour." Her amusement won over her lack of energy and Lily felt herself break into a grin as James' arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her closer. Now this, this she could deal with at this ungodly hour. Lily leant her head against James' chest and let sleep begin to drag her back into its clutches once more.

_BANG._

Lily's eyes shot open at once. It was as loud as a gunshot, and it sounded close. Had something happened down on the street? A firefight, perhaps? No, what was she thinking? It couldn't be a gunshot. She and James were in her bedroom, in her apartment, in _Diagon Alley, _a _magical_ community. Wizards didn't use guns to kill each other. James had sat up immediately; he already had his glasses on and was desperately turning his head left and right in search for the source of the chaos through the pitch black. He was going to get whiplash if he kept doing that. Lily copied him, although slower, and felt her heart slowly sink back down from where it had lept to her throat. After a moment, her eyes fell on the curtained window to her left, and the shadows of two small claws on the outer side of her bedroom window. James followed her gaze. Was that…an owl?

A deep hoot from the shadows confirmed her suspicion. They'd been woken by the bloody post owl. Who in Merlin's name was writing to her at this hour? James gave Lily a little shove and wordlessly reminded her that she was closer to the window by slumping back under the warm covers, eyes tightly shut. Once again, Lily found herself forced to brave the relentless cold. Gritting her teeth, she sprinted over to the window, forced it open a crack, snatched up the note from the stupid owl, slammed the window shut again and jumped back under the duvet. That was it; she was not leaving this bed _ever again_. It took a few minutes for her eyesight to sharpen enough to read the lettering on the front of the envelope. It wasn't addressed to her. Lily sighed, reminding herself to force the lump next to her to survive the cold next time.

"James…" Lily whispered, kicking him under the covers to grab his attention, "it's for you." Warily, he took the envelope from her hand and ripped it open with eyes half-shut. Part of the parchment inside was torn along with it. Clearly he needed another hour or so in bed too. There was a moment of silence as he skimmed over its contents.

"They can't do this!" The lump next to her suddenly sounded a hell of a lot more awake. James had sat up again, jolting upright as if he'd been shocked, gripping the letter tightly in his hand. Lily's heart again lept to her throat and she also sat up once more. She winced slightly; the icy chill of the morning had been forgotten in his excitement. James' eyes had not left the letter. She was about to ask what the commotion was when there was another loud _bang_ to her right. Another owl had crashed into her window bearing news. James continued to whinge as she repeated her previous actions and slammed the window shut a second time, "They can't _do _this!"

Lily ignored him as she ripped open the second envelope. What was all this chaos that had gotten her out of bed at 5am?

_Prongs, have you heard? Whose idiotic idea was this? I bet Montrose and that Baxter bastard are behind it. There's a conference this afternoon – all teams have to be there – we'll find out more about this dragonshit then. See you at training._

_-Sirius_

Lily was just as confused as she had been before. Montrose and Baxter were behind what? What was this "idiotic idea"? Was it as ridiculous as the one that involved waking her up at this hour? James had lept out of bed – evidently oblivious to the cold – and begun pacing up and down the room. She reread Sirius' note, wondering if she could make sense of it. She remained puzzled.

"James, what's going on?"He apparently didn't hear her; he continued to pace, muttering to himself. Lily caught only a few words, "think they are…cold…Baxter git…". After many minutes of this, and it became clear that he was not going to enlighten her anytime soon, her patience wore thin. Lily scrunched up the parchment with Sirius' note in her hand, and carefully aimed for the moving black mess of hair. The paper ball flew through the cold morning air, and easily hit its target. James quickly snapped out of his daydreams.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" James seemed torn between indignation and awe that she had managed to hit him. Lily too, had been pleasantly surprised, but he was not to know that. His obsession with his own letter faded, and his hand ghosted over the spot where the paper ball had made contact. They locked eyes again, and James relaxed slightly.

"Doesn't that tell you?" He questioned, gesturing to where the projectile had fallen to the floor, "Some idiot has decided to move all our Quidditch games from night to day!" Lily stared blankly at him. Was…was he serious? Of all the possible things that James could have been moaning over, it was a change in Quidditch match times? This had to be a dream, it must be. It made absolutely no sense.

"I-I don't understand." She commented, shaking her head. "What's the problem? The League Board wouldn't have changed anything serious this close to the season. And you _train _in the daytime, anyway! Won't it be better? Easier for you?" James looked outraged.

"Are you insane, Lily? Montrose is the only team that has won a daytime Quidditch match in the last century!"

"So?"If it were at all possible, James looked even more incensed, and began pacing again. Lily felt herself shrink slightly under his heavy gaze.

"They _can't_ win night matches! They're the only team that benefits from this! Whoever suggested this must be from Montrose." He stopped dead. Realisation dawned on him. "They've gotten someone on the Board! Th-they _must _have. Baxter would do something like this…they were picked to win last year…until we beat them in the semis. The charity match was just the beginning…this is Baxter's doing."

Lily sighed; every word that James said seemed less and less plausible. She felt like a mother listening to her toddler tell her a great story, one about fighting dragons, dueling house elves and then discovering a lost treasure, all between lunch and dinner. James look quite deranged in his anger; his glasses were askew on his nose, his hair stuck up in all directions and his heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. She swallowed, making sure she chose her next words very carefully or set him off once more.

"James, I think you're overreacting." He went to protest, but she shushed him, "Montrose can't have gotten one of their players on the Board. No one who is _associated_ with a team can be. _"No member of the Board should be related to, by blood or marriage, any member of a team, or have been associated with a team themselves."_ Even _I _know that." Lily drew a deep breath, trying to keep her tone from growing sarcastic, "You're overreacting, I'm sure of it. Montrose may be pissed about losing the League Cup, but they already had their revenge at the charity match. They're not going to resort to corruption and sabotage!" She tried to soften her gaze, to calm him down further, but he shook his head, still as disturbed by this as before.

"This is something Baxter would do. He's planning something, I'm sure of it." James went back to pacing, shaking his head at his girlfriend's foolishness and naivety. Lily sighed again and collapsed back onto the bed. There was no reasoning with him at this hour.

* * *

**6:23 pm. Day One Hundred and Sixty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: dubious.**

* * *

In James' obsession over what was surely Montrose's great revenge, the ten-hour training session flew by faster than ever. Lily found herself growing more skeptical with every thought spent on this stupid Quidditch-match-time fiasco, and by the time they were due at the British and Irish Quidditch League headquarters, she had come to the conclusion that if one more word concerning Baxter or Montrose's involvement left James' lips, she would most likely hit him with a disciplinary Bat-Bogey Hex.

Lily had never been to the headquarters before. She hadn't needed to, as James hadn't been called there once for a disciplinary hearing or suspension warning since she'd been working with him. It was quite a grand building; ten stories high and decorated with wrought iron around every window. She was quite impressed.

She and James followed a dense crowd through the entrance hall and down several other passages to a main atrium, where a small stage had been set up and several bearded, elderly men sat and surveyed the turnout. Apparently attendance was not just limited to the press and Quidditch teams, but just about anyone who cared about the game at all. Lily took note of the bustling atrium, and knew at once that she had just walked into the Hall of Fame. The magnificent chamber was covered from chandeliered ceiling to marble floor with portraits of beaming men and women, dressed in several shades of Quidditch robes, who smiled and waved at their successors to their teams. Lily fought the urge to return the gesture – now was not the time for childish behaviour. The meeting was to start in seven minutes, and they were yet to find their seats.

In the crowded atrium, Lily recognised the robes of several other teams sitting together. The Chudley Cannons sat towards the front, the Falmouth Falcons in the back-right corner, the Holyhead Harpies on the far side, and of course Puddlemere, front and centre. Fans of each of the teams sat nearby, and the atrium had been effectively turned into a rainbow of team colours. Montrose, however, was nowhere to be seen. Lily fought back a smirk. James had been definitely overreacting, and here was the proof. If Montrose had been involved, which they were obviously not, they would have made sure to be there tonight, to relish in their imminent victory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The conference will start in five minutes." As they approached the sea of navy and gold, James was quickly swallowed up by his teammates, leaving Lily to sit alone with the other women who had accompanied their significant others tonight. Some she recognised from the charity match; a circle of gorgeous twenty-somethings, who, last time she saw them, were dangling their refilled champagne glasses from their red-fingernailed hands, although this time they lacked this. However, they were too engrossed in their conversation to include the new girl, the girl who stole James Potter from the lovely Alison Stern, so Lily remained alone. In a few moments, the atrium's noise hushed to a silence. The bearded man who sat in the middle of the stage had risen, and begun to address the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the Board thanks you for attending tonight's announcement." There was a short applause – what, were they actually congratulating themselves for attending? "In the past ten years, we have witnessed some magnificent games. Some, we held our breath for. Some, we crossed our fingers. Some, we knew that it was a certain win. Some, we couldn't see what was going on." The latter drew a murmur from the audience.

"_I _had no problem seeing. If they had trouble, they should have gotten better seats!" The witch sitting beside Lily whispered to her friends, who nodded briskly in agreement.

"The Board believes that attendance at our matches in the last ten years have decreased greatly due to a number of causes." The murmuring in the atrium got progressively louder, "One of which, is the time of the matches. The Board believes that, in order to inspire a new generation of Quidditch players, children must be able to see the game in action." The Quidditch teams had known this – Puddlemere certainly did – so why were the shrieks of outrage coming from the Harpies and the Falcons? Perhaps hearing it _officially _made it worse? The old Board member carried on, glaring at those who had interrupted the loudest, "It is therefore, in the interest of the game's, that beginning this season, we shall move all British and Irish League Quidditch matches from seven o'clock on Saturday evenings to noon, Sunday afternoons."

The Hall of Fame exploded. From every corner, every seat in the atrium, there were deafening yells of protest. The Falmouth Falcons were swearing loudly to anyone who would listen. The row of Cannons two behind Lily began to screech accusations of bribery and sabotage. One fan, dressed head-to-toe in green, began indicting them of heresy. At the base of the stage, the members of the press swarmed – demanding _real _answers to why this had happened. Lily did not envy the man, who had difficulty avoiding the flashes of cameras and the intimidation of several spiteful-looking Quick Quotes Quills. It was unlike anything Lily had ever seen of the magical world. Riots about Quidditch times? Really?

"How much did Montrose pay you?" shrieked a young Harpie, who was lost in the sea of journalists congregated out the front.

"'Ow come Montrose ain't here?" yelled another, whose quill almost stabbed the old Board member in the eye, "They too scared to face us?" There was a cheer of agreement, and the reporter's quill went for the man's face again. He began to lose his temper.

"We believe that this small change could very much increase attendance at matches and increase revenue to the League. And so, for the following season, as a _trial period_, these changes _will stand_!" He roared over the commotion. Lily crossed her arms and sat back in her chair, the only one in the chamber who hadn't spoken out about this massive alteration to the game of Quidditch forever. She hadn't expected such an occurrence this morning, when it was just James scaring her out of bed at 5am. Merlin, what she would do to be back there now; none of his match time nonsense, none of this commotion, no thought about this stupid game, just her and James. Clearly she wasn't allowed to have such a thing.

After a good quarter of an hour, the audience had eventually yelled itself hoarse and quiet returned to the Hall of Fame. A new speaker, one slightly younger than the first, who actually retained his hair and lacked horn-rimmed glasses, had taken to the podium. The audience stared up expectedly at him; perhaps these insane changes had been revoked, perhaps this was all someone's idea of an April Fool's joke. It was a different kind of quiet to the stony, out-of-breath silence given to the other wizard, one of hope. It soon became clear that the wizarding world was not in store for the abrupt announcement of an April Fool's day joke.

"Tonight, we not only announce these alterations to the season's games, but an alteration to the British and Irish Quidditch League Board itself. Sadly, as you may have heard through the _Daily Prophet_ or _Quidditch Today_," he nodded towards two reporters who had abandoned their front-row seats, "we have lost one of our own, a truly inspiring member of the Board, Mr. Arnold Keating." Lily did not recognise the name, but evidently he meant something to almost all of the audience, who bowed their heads in honour of him for a minute. _Almost _all the audience.

"Oh, he was so _cruel_,that guy! Gave such harsh punishments!" The same witch had started whispering to her friends again. Lily tried to ignore her – what was this about an alteration to the Board? There was more murmuring echoing throughout the hall. It seemed that, for the first time that night, Lily was thinking along the same lines as the crowd. The new speaker continued.

"In light of Arnold Keating's death, the Board is has inducted a new member. I am proud to introduce Ms. Alison Stern!" Lily froze. The world seemed to slow to almost a stop as the familiar high-heeled, Muggle-dressed figure of Alison Stern pranced onto stage, a wide smile on her face. Again, the atrium was silent, the two hundred or so were too distraught from the first set of changes to protest about the appointment of this…dragon. Or at least, the two hundred bar Sirius Black.

"_BAXTER'S GIRL?_" He barked, jumping out of his seat. The sudden burst of noise broke Lily out of her trance as she, along with numerous others, turned to stare. James, who sat beside him looked just as mad, and he too stood from his chair.

"What happened to _'no member of the Board should be related to any member of a team, or have been associated with a team themselves'_?" In a show of support, several other men dressed in navy and gold stood also, some crossing their arms, some clutching their wands, ready to shoot a hex at the woman on the stage. For a moment, James locked eyes with Lily, silently pleading her to join him, but she shook her head. Making a scene was only going to make things worse, and that was most likely what Alison Stern wanted. Most likely what she planned. Evidently hurt, he instead put his attention on staring down Alison. Only when the massive frame of Marvel had risen, did Alison Stern finally react.

"Thank you for your input, Mr. Potter." She said, with all the sly coercion of a teacher. And in the continued silence, one by one, the Puddlemere team sat. Staring around the atrium, Lily noted that not one person from any other team had joined the Puddlemere team in their stand. Clearly, the hatred held for Alison Stern was limited to only those who had had the displeasure of meeting her. Alison cleared her throat, "I am sincerely humbled by my induction to the Board. It is a real privilege, and I'm very honoured. I wholeheartedly support these changes in the interest of the game and possible future athletes. I also assure the magical community that this is only a trial, and that your input will be taken into account when the Board makes its final decision in November. Now," she grinned down at the press, "do we have any questions?"

At this, the audience began to move, and the Hall of Fame began to empty. Only when they were among the few left in the hall did James again approach Lily.

"Shall we go then?" He held out his hand, which Lily promptly took. With one last glance at her arch-rival, the two of them disappeared.

* * *

**7:45 pm. Day Sixty-Seven of official employment. Current mood: perspicacious.**

* * *

"What do you mean, I'm overreacting? _You're_ under-reacting! Weren't _you _the one who was so sure that Alison Stern is out to get you?"

"I'm still certain she is."

They had skipped dinner; neither of them had felt like eating. The press conference had sufficiently caused their appetite to drop, even after the grueling ten hours of Quidditch training. As Lily kicked off her shoes at the door, taking special care to make sure she didn't drip onto the wood floor, James crumpled onto the lounge with both muddy Quidditch shoes on, groaning at how difficult she was being. It wasn't _her _that was being difficult, it was bloody Alison Stern. Did she not have anything better to do than make Lily's life catastrophic? Clearly this was the case, or she'd be spending her every moment planning every minor detail of her upcoming wedding like every other normal woman. Lily smiled warily and took up the spot on the lounge that James had not stretched out to occupy. He stared up at her affectionately, and she busied herself lightly pushing the hair out of his eyes. They lingered like that for minutes…hours…

"Why didn't you stand up?" He asked. She knew it had been coming, ever since that second-long expression on his face at the press conference. Lily sighed and stopped playing with his hair. She moved her focus to the window, analyzing how the raindrops landed on the glass panes. For some strange reason, she couldn't face him.

"You said it, I've gotten used to thinking Alison's out to get me. I'm quite sure she was hoping there'd be a scene, better publicity about her new role, that way. And what a headline it would be, _"Puddlemere's Abhorrence to Montrose Bird"_." There was a clap of thunder, it began to rain harder. It was too hard to track a single raindrop now; Lily and James met eyes for just about the thousandth time that day.

"Sounds like Alison. Maybe your paranoia is a good thing Lily; we can use it to predict her next move." She giggled.

"I wish I could, it'd make my life a lot easier. I just want to know what she's planning with this League Board thing." Lily swallowed, and for a split second her mind went blank. It was then that she began to realise exactly what Alison was planning, "It's like she's out to scare us, or something. Because if she marries Baxter, she's immediately off the Board. And she's _certainly _intending on marrying him, so why go to the trouble of getting inducted?" Lily paused, it began to make sense, "I don't think this is about Montrose getting the upper hand, James. This is a message to me, to _us_. She used you for recognition and fame. Then she used me as a crash dummy for when she wanted to move on. I was meant to fail and to bring you down into the mud with me. She made that clear at the charity match."

"So getting on the Board…does what?" Lily considered this for moment.

"She's psyching us out. Now she's done with the love story between you two, she needs the publicity to move onto her new relationship with Baxter. The more media attention, the more interviews, the more money for a wedding, the bigger it gets, the more the public become invested in it, the more positive feedback on her, Baxter and Montrose. And we, the couple who everyone loves to hate, who are also associated with Montrose's arch rivals, make for a good story. We're the threat for media attention." James gazed at her, caught somewhere between awe and confusion, "This is _good_, it means she's worried. And we can play with that."

Lily felt lightheaded with realisation. They had the upper hand now; for once they could play it to how they wanted. Alison's games, ways to pass the time until Lily and James' ultimate downfall, were no use now. They could fight back; they knew how to fight back. And the only way to fight fire was with fire. Alison Stern, this was war.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter. _

_Sorry for the long time it took - it's much longer than usual if that helps!_

_Again, thank you for all the wonderful responses!  
_

_-xSymnia_


	15. 1st Annual

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: The First Annual Puddlemere Pre-Season League Cup Win Celebrations  
(or, the First Annual Funeral for Nighttime Quidditch Matches)  
(or, Best Dress Required)**

* * *

**11:57 pm. Day One Hundred and Seventy-Four with Evans. Current objective: pre-season win celebrations.**

* * *

When Lily had first said "war", he'd been expecting a little more violence and a hell of a lot more blood. But, evidently, Lily's own idea of war involved many more cameras, reporters, late nights and Firewhiskey than his own. Of course, he wasn't complaining. Not in the slightest. A pre-season League win celebration wasn't far off his idea of a perfect Saturday night. Although, thanks to the Baxter bastard and the favouriting, corrupt League Board, they'd be having a lovely celebratory Sunday afternoon tea and scones at the conclusion of this season. Perhaps when they'd taken home the League Cup for a second consecutive year, they'd be able to have one of their girlfriends on the Board too.

James had voluntarily removed himself from the centre of the celebrations in favour of grabbing another Firewhiskey from the kitchen, to take a short break from the party. The kitchen was the one part of his flat that remained relatively unscathed from the night's activities. Even when intoxicated, he knew wizards favoured the Summoning Charm to actual physical activity which involved leaving the heart of the party for even a moment, so the kitchen was a fairly good bet as to where he could find some peace and relative quiet. He dodged the two bottles flying from the fridge to the outstretched arms of those out in the living room as he took up a seat at the bench, unscrewing the Blast-Ended Skrewt-coloured cap and taking a large swing. He'd long since lost track of Lily. The last glimpse of her had been on the dance floor – she'd turned out to be quite an energetic drinker, startlingly different from her sober self. He hadn't seen her like this since their last post-season win celebratory gatherings October, when she'd snogged him in front of several delighted journalists. It hadn't taken many personal experiences with her to discover that he held his alcohol much better than she. Oh, how he looked forward to the "I told you so" he could say in the morning, or the cheerful reminder that this celebration had been all her idea. It was a publicity stunt, their first swipe at the now quickly-decreasing egos that were Baxter and Alison. There had been no mention of either of them in the last fortnight's tabloids. It was if they'd become ghosts. James shivered at the thought. If they had, they'd most likely take great pleasure in haunting him from beyond the grave.

He couldn't help but wonder if this was just Lily's way of having a legitimate reason to get herself drunk and snog him senseless in front of an adoring crowd again. Because, if it were, he certainly didn't have any problem with it.

* * *

**12:13 am. Day One Hundred and Seventy-Five of official employment. Current mood: having the best time of her Merlin-damn life.**

* * *

The lights flashed, the music was close to being deafeningly loud and the flat was crowded with people. What had originally been a purely Puddlemere celebration had rapidly become a farewell to what would be the sorely-missed nighttime matches of the British and Irish League Quidditch season. Players from almost every team bar the Montrose Magpies and those conservative Kenmare Kestrals had come, each and every one of them bearing gifts of Firewhiskey and other forms of alcohol. Lily couldn't have asked for more, with this many Quidditch players, remarkably coexisting well considering the amount of alcohol and the seriousness of their rivalries, knowledge of this event would surely reach the tabloids before its conclusion, and the front page of the morning's _Prophet_ (given that there were no hideous murderers or Dark Wizards about) would surely be dedicated to the Puddlemere United team and none other than James Potter and Lily Evans. She honestly couldn't wait to see the look on Alison Stern's face. What would she do when she realised that she was going down faster than she ever could have imagined?

James had disappeared quite a while ago, but she didn't panic. He was probably with Sirius, laughing it up about their inevitable win or bitching about Montrose with another team. He seemed to be having a great time too, and he should be. This was his element. If anything, he should be an expert on throwing these sorts of celebrations; Alison had sent him out to get drunk every other night, hadn't she? Well Lily would prove her wrong; she would prove that she was better than Alison, once and for all. By the end of this war, with Alison's defeat, the wizarding world would remember Lily Evans, that gorgeous red-headed witch whose portrait was proudly displayed in the PR Hall of Fame. Alison Stern however…perhaps she was the wife of that Montrose player?

Lily took another large gulp of her Firewhiskey, relishing in the burning sensation she felt as it raced down her throat. She swapped ear-to-ear grins with the witch who danced beside her, a Harpie named Gwen Morgan, who followed her lead, downing what was left of her Muggle beer – apparently a treat at this particular party. Together, they launched into a fit of giggles, knowing full well that they looked like idiots as they attempted to dance in what little space they had, squashed in the middle of at least fifty others crammed into the small entry hall. The Firewhiskey had proved effective; until now, Lily hadn't even considered Alison Stern, she hadn't had the need to. She was having far too much fun. Gwen motioned that she was going to grab another bottle, the music and yells of the other Quidditch players and friends were far too loud to be heard over. Lily nodded and went to follow her, but the small gap to the slightly less-crowded living room had already closed up again before she could coordinate herself enough so as to do so. In this bustling place, with so many dark outlines of bodies that all looked too much alike, it was hard to concentrate long enough to find a way out. And so Lily kept dancing, swapping smiles and friendly gestures with anyone she caught eyes with.

After what seemed like hours since Gwen had left, she felt a sharp tap on her shoulder. Took her long enough. Lily dropped her now-empty Firewhiskey bottle to the ground as she spun around in the limited space she had, ready to accept the new one that Gwen surely brought, only to find herself facing a figure that was surely not the short and stout Gwen Morgan's. It was after the next flash of light that erupted from the adjoining room did Lily recognise the person.

"Izzy!" She shrieked, although she already knew that it would be unlikely that she would be heard over the music. Without a second thought, Lily wrapped her arms tightly around Izzy, embracing her in a hug. She must have surprised her, for Lily didn't sense her do the same. Of course, it had been months since they'd last met and then Lily had rather rudely asked Izzy to leave her alone. Clearly, Izzy was still annoyed about this, as she took Lily's wrist without another attempt to speak and dragged her through the darkened crowd, through a sliding door which separated the bedrooms from the rest of the flat and roughly closed the door behind them. Lily watched curiously, feeling quite awkward without her bottle of Firewhiskey, as Izzy pointed her wand at the door and cast both a Locking and a Silencing Charm. The effect was incredible, the music from behind just a couple of centimeters of door had been completely muted, and Lily had the odd feeling of her ears being filled up with liquid It was then that Izzy faced her, her purple lips tightly pursed and an unimpressed expression plastered across her face. She tutted.

"What…are…you…doing?" Lily didn't quite understand. What was she doing? She was having a good time, that's what she was doing. From the look on Izzy's face, she felt like a child who had just been caught doing something naughty by an older sister. Of course, she didn't have a clue as to why. It wasn't like she was taking a night off to party. It was a 'two birds with one stone' deal. A chance to let her hair down and gain media attention, not to mention begin war on Alison Stern. And yet, Izzy stood three feet away from her, arms crossed and looking ready to murder her. Lily put on her best smile, ignoring the tension filling the annex.

"It's been a while, Izzy. Come to join the celebration?" Izzy didn't move. She didn't even appear to breathe until she shook her head incredulously at this.

"Why am I hearing about Miss Lily Evans throwing a party for all Quidditch teams except Montrose? Supposedly, a celebration for the upcoming season? What, are you trying to give them all alcohol poisoning? Honestly, I thought you were better than sabotage, that's something not even Harvey Rancorn would do!" Lily furrowed her eyebrows, but couldn't keep a smile off her face at the first of these questions. If Izzy Skeptor had already heard, the _Prophet_ and _Witch Weekly _scouts would certainly be next. However, the latter and Izzy's strange monologues made her feel rather uneasy.

"It's not sabotage. I would've thought that you of all people could recognise a publicity stunt when they see one, Izzy!"

"This is not a publicity stunt!" Izzy snapped, gesturing towards the locked and silenced door, barely a second after the last words had left Lily's lips. Lily was taken aback, and for a moment, she and Izzy just stood in the annex between the two bedrooms and bathroom, staring down each other. Nothing like this had ever happened with Izzy before. Never. Sure, it was a hundred times more likely to occur in the presence of Alison Stern, but never Izzy. What in Merlin's name was going on? "What on Earth are you thinking, Lily? Have you honestly lost all your self-respect?" Lily gaped at her friend, unsure of how to react.

"I-I don't understand, Izzy." And for the second time in five minutes, Izzy Skeptor looked just about ready to murder her.

"The Lily Evans _I _know would not have done something like this! She would _not_ have sunk down to such a level as this to play her client as the infamous famous person. She would _not _have let herself fall for the charms of that drunken Potter of all people! Oh Merlin! Even that Muggle bloke of yours was better than him!" She screeched, pointing both at Lily and commotion on the other side of the sliding door for their respective points. Even in her inebriated state, Izzy's yelling had slightly sobered Lily into comprehending what she said. And still, Lily didn't quite understand. She wasn't sure if this was the Firewhiskey talking, or perhaps just the thought of getting yelled at by someone she thought was her friend, her mentor.

"I-I think we're having a misunderstanding." She said, only a tiny bit above a whisper.

"No, we are not just having a misunderstanding, Lily Evans! Since _when_ did you think it was a brilliant idea to take the 'couple that everyone loves to hate' route? Since _when_ did you drink copious amounts of Firewhiskey? Since _when _were you attracted to Quidditch players with a partying problem?" She drew a breath, "And where _is_ Potter anyway? Passed out on the couch? I thought better of you Lily!" At the mention of James was when something inside Lily snapped.

"Don't you _dare_ bring James into this! This has absolutely _nothing _to do with him! And since _when_ did _you _care about what I did in my war against Alison Stern?" She barked, twisting Izzy's words around. Lily began to step closer to Izzy with each accusation. To her credit, although that was the last thing Lily wanted to give her at this moment, Izzy stood her ground, glaring her every step of the way.

"'_War against Alison Stern'_?" Izzy repeated with a touch of disbelief in her voice, "A personalrivalry! I'd have never thought you'd do something like this! Perhaps if sleeping with that man wasn't the worst mistake of your life, asking me to get you this job was!" Lily only hesitated for a second, in pure astonishment at Izzy's words.

"_You didn't get me this job!" _Lily roared in response. And, after this, Izzy finally altered her expression. Her purple-bordered mouth gaped incredulously and she gave a breathy laugh, as though she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Who was it who got you that interview? Me! Izzy Skeptor! I'm the one who mentored you all the way from Hogwarts! And I didn't get you that interview so you could sleep with the captain of Puddlemere United! I told you that very day! When you lasted a year with that man and became the most sought-after publicist in the wizarding world, you would thank _one _woman, me, Izzy Skeptor, for all the help that I gave you, for giving you this opportunity! Is _this _what PR firms want? A party animal that sleeps with all her clients, who sleeps her way to that portrait in the Hall of Fame? Because had you done this job correctly, you wouldn't have had to sink to that level. It would have rocketed you right there! And now, after all my hard work, after all the mentoring, even with your own ambitions, you're throwing it _all _away on some petty rivalry and a drunken Quidditch player!" By the end of this, she and Lily were chest to chest, glowering at each other with consumed with anger. Lily stepped backward, as if somehow injured by Izzy's snarls.

"And why do you care? You're mentoring now, aren't you? Why should someone like me, who's _obviously _screwing up her career, still keep your interest?" The argument had sobered her quite well, and now Lily could think more clearly than even before. Why was Izzy Skeptor still supporting her? It wasn't because they were friends, Izzy Skeptor did not have friends, she had contacts. It was an occupational hazard in this industry.

"Because what you do doesn't only affect you, Lily, it hurts others around you. People who might not want to help you next time. Just think about who it was that mentored you when no one else would. Who offered you a helping hand when you needed it? And when you've finally come to your senses, send me an owl and maybe I'll consider helping you again." Izzy pulled a small, delicate envelope from a pocket inside her robes and handed it over. It was addressed to both Lily and James, but with such expensive stationary and the unmistakable handwriting of Alison Stern, it didn't take Lily (even in such a state) to realise what it was. She was about to ask how Izzy had come across it when her question was already answered for her.

"It was in your office, underneath a pile of overdue requests. I took the liberty of bringing it to you since you clearly haven't been there in the last month. And the tabloids would go _crazy_ if you never turned up." As Lily took the envelope in both hands to open it, Izzy released it from her grasp and leaned in a little closer to Lily. For a split, insane, second, Lily believed she was going to hug her. But she was soon proven wrong, as Izzy whispered only a few, rather menacing words in her ear,

"I wonder what you do with all that free time..."

* * *

**6:04 am. Day One Hundred and Seventy-Five of official employment. Current mood: irresolute.**

* * *

Lily wasn't exactly sure that all of the night's events hadn't just happened in her head. They hadn't seemed real, none of it did. First Izzy appearing out of the blue, and then, perhaps even more surprisingly, her intentions to completely rip Lily apart at her own party. She hadn't seen the woman in months and then...this happened. And honestly, who did Izzy Skeptor think she was? The woman who was formerly her mentor, turning around and stabbing her in the back! Lily would never have guessed Izzy would be on Alison's side. Alison, of all people. Even after Izzy's apparent disdain for the woman, kept up until...Merlin...the charity match. They had seemed close then. Izzy had not realised she and Alison had met before. And then, Lily had quickly sent her away. Perhaps she should have kept her around, to hear what Alison had done to her and James. James...he'd gone to bed as soon as everyone had left, and Lily had initially joined him, but Izzy's bitter words had kept her awake for the remainder of the morning. She doubted he had noticed her leave the bedroom; the long night had taken a toll on both of them.

Izzy didn't understand how unconventional this job was. With Alison Stern as a predecessor, Lily had no hope of having an easy ride anyway. But Izzy seemed to know more than she was letting on; maybe she _was _really close with Alison after all. If Lily had been an intern at Rancorn, perhaps she and Izzy would be closer too. It was all in the choices that they made. Alison had chosen to use James to get where she wanted. She had dumped him and moved on. She had found herself someone with a better reputation, someone who the public already loved, not someone they loved from her hard work. It probably felt rewarding, it be with someone who didn't depend on them. But Lily was surely better than Alison. But Lily... in fact, had done very much the same. Only six months ago, she had fully intended on using James' infamous reputation to get her into the Hall of Fame. She'd done exactly what Alison Stern would have. Alison had an ambition for fame, as, it turned out, so did she. Lily wanted a portrait in the Hall of Fame ever since she left Hogwarts. And Izzy had helped her work towards this. OH Merlin, who was she kidding, she was more like Alison than she ever wanted to admit. They though the same way, they acted on their plans in the same manner. They ultimately had the same ambition and thirst to achieve it.

How had she not seen this before? Maybe she had, and she'd ignored her head in favour of what her heart wanted. It wouldn't be the first time she did something like that. Had she not only recently broken yet another promise to herself that she'd keep her personal and professional lives separated, only to break this promise hours after making it? She couldn't believe herself. Right from the start, she had promised herself things and then let them happen. And then she'd followed in Alison's footsteps – blindly. And now, in her own stupidity, she had further ruined her own career by declaring war on Alison Stern; a truly petty, selfish act. What would she have done after Alison went down? Throw another party? Sing and dance?

'_What you do doesn't only affect you...it hurts others around you'_ Izzy's words only made her feel worse. She had dragged James and the Puddlemere into the war with her, and now, quite possibly, the entire British and Irish Quidditch League, bar Montrose and those conservative Kenmares now. It wasn't that Alison had won, it was far from it. She and James still had the upper hand, slightly so, but still. And even that did not cheer Lily up even a little, because she was lost at the moment. All this time, just as James had convinced himself that he couldn't play Quidditch in the daytime, she had convinced herself Alison was out to get her. And while it was still most likely true, Lily felt differently about it...almost accepting of something that was yet to come.

Most of all, Alison's next move, something Lily had been searching for clues of ever since her declaration of war, had been right in front of her. If only she had looked. Lily picked up the delicate envelope again and once more pulled out the expensive stationary inside.

_The honour of James Potter and Lily Evans'  
presence is requested at the marriage of  
Miss Alison Georgina Stern  
to  
Mr. Philippe David Baxter  
on Sunday, the seventh of March  
in the Queen's Gardens, at noon,  
and reception afterwards at three o'clock.  
Best dress required._

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Once again, thank you to every single one of you for all of your support! It means so, so much to me._

_Until next time,_

_-xSymnia  
_


	16. D, DR & DG

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Decaf, Dress Robes and Dolce and Gabbana**

* * *

**8:38 am. Day One Hundred and Ninety of official employment. Current mood: austere.**

* * *

"'The biggest event of the year' That's what they're calling it. 'The greatest wedding since William and Kate's.'" Lily threw the week's special double-sized edition of _Rumours! _across the kitchen counter in disgust, feeling quite scandalized by the extent of the publicity surrounding the wedding of Alison Stern. She instead turned her attention to the ugly-looking (and smelling) drink that sat on the bench before her; a terrible, tasteless substitute for the only thing in the world that could have kept her sane through the last week's absurdity. Without ability to Apparate into Muggle London without getting arrested and James' constant all-day Quidditch practices taking up valuable travel time, Lily had been robbed of her bi-daily double-strength skim mocha cappuccino, and it wasn't suiting her at all. Only time would tell how long she would go before another withdrawal rage. Across the counter, leaning against the sink with his own mug of this poison that he called "decaf", James seemed oblivious to both of her predicaments.

"Who's William and Kate?" Lily shot him a glare that she would usually reserve for the most annoying of journalists and continued scanning the ridiculously-sized stack of press material relating to the day's event, ignoring him. It seemed that every journalist and Quidditch fan alike had invested far too much of themselves into Alison Stern's wedding; everywhere Lily had gone recently, there were people discussing possible guest lists, wedding dress designs, flower arrangements and venues. The media was ten times worse; barely a day had gone by in the past fortnight without the word "exclusive" printed on the front cover of a tabloid beside the word "wedding". Apparently every little detail had been sealed away from the public's curious eyes, so how exclusive these articles could be was a wonder – all was to be revealed on the seventh of March, in two hundred and four pages no less, a special evening edition of _Witch Weekly_ including official photos and interviews with the guests. Lily could hardly wait.

"And remind me exactly _why_ we've been invited as friends of the bride to the 'greatest wedding since William and Kate'?" Lily tossed the _Morning Prophet _in the same general direction as _Rumours! _had gone.

"Because if the ex of the bride is running around Diagon Alley spreading rumours of an affair or the maid of honour's drinking problems, he'll get at least _some _media attention. If the ex of the bride is doing the same thing _at_ the bride's wedding, he'll bring the media attention to the wedding and leave it there when he gets thrown out." _Spella Weekly _quicklyfollowed the _Prophet_, almost sliding off the kitchen counter, "Not that he'd be doing such a thing anymore." She added. The incident with Izzy Skeptor had, as of yet, gone unspoken between them since the morning following the funeral party. To his eternal credit, James had not bothered her over it. He instead had begun throwing himself into the Quidditch training harder than ever before, perhaps in hope that a second consecutive League Cup win would give her enough news to spin and fix whatever had spooked her at the party. His dark attitude towards her actions since then had not been as silent. Izzy's name had not surfaced in the early morning argument when Lily had told him they were going underground; in hope that spending some time as ghosts could restart it all.

"_We're changing angles _again_?" _he'd said incredulously, in the same manner someone would learning that the Quidditch season had just been cancelled; a mix of homicidal anger and pure, shell-shocked disbelief. Lily shook her head, searching for words to explain what she wanted to do better. He'd started again before she could, "_First it was the fake girlfriend thing, and you almost ended up in Azkaban. Then it was the 'Worst Couple of the Year' and you said we were over. Then war on Alison Stern and now what…social suicide?"_ He didn't understand what she was saying. It was infuriating, it was so obvious. What they needed a reset button, a way to rebuild his reputation as a good person, not a good person when his girlfriend is still inside the room and a party animal every other moment. Alison may as well have salted the earth under the garden that was her career – nothing would ever grow. What a bit-

"_We just need some time for everything to cool down." _She had replied, exasperated by her own inefficiency with words. Lily had yet to find a way to explain this to James without setting him off again. They didn't speak for the rest of the day. Lily was annoyed with him more than ever at that point, because, as usual, he had been right. He had just been pointing out what she already feared. What she wanted to do was beyond impossible. In this industry, there was no such thing as the past. Anything that had happened could happen again; anything you'd thought you'd hidden could be found once more. People never changed and their reputations always overshadowed them. But Lily had to try, and pray. She needed to find a way, because it wasn't just her head on the chopping block anymore. Why didn't James understand that? If what Izzy had said was true, they were in for it, and not just them, but the Puddlemere team also. She just hoped that having her dream wedding would make Alison Stern a little less…Alison…for the time being. With this short ceasefire, she could figure out what to do. Lily needed to use this time to scheme. That and find some decent caffeine.

"Today, we're going to be the best of friends with the bride. We'll attend the ceremony, smile and pose for some photos, give the happy couple our congratulations and then do some meet and greet at the reception. If all goes well, we'll come home knowing that both the wedding and our attendance there will bring glowing praise from the media. As far as they will know, we and Alison Baxter nee Stern get along famously, and we shall be the next couple with wedding bells in the near future." Lily stood from the bench and promptly drained the mug of decaffeinated coffee down the sink. No way in hell would she risk tarnishing her already horrible reputation further by throwing up in the middle of the wedding ceremony. James muttered something under his breath about the bar at the wedding serving Firewhiskey as she did, soon switching places with her, no doubt to moving to the opposite side of the kitchen bench to avoid the empty mug that she would surely throw at him.

"So you would disapprove of my 'accidental' decking of Baxter, then." He said, opening up the next tabloid on the pile, _Witch Weekly_'s rival magazine, _Witch Wizard_. Lily met his gaze, unsure of whether he was kidding or not. The thought of doing the same to Alison Stern passed her mind…she could do it after all…she could get away quickly … and no one would ever know. Neither of them broke their gaze. A smile broke onto her face.

"We'll see…" she laughed, "we'll see."

* * *

**11:46 am. Day One Hundred and Ninety of official employment. Current mood: strangely serene, considering she's attended her biggest enemy's happiest day of her life.**

* * *

They arrived a quarter of an hour early, and yet the celebrations were already in full swing. Witches and wizards, dressed in what was undoubtedly their best dress robes as per Alison's request, stood in small cliques around the entrance into the Queen's Gardens, which was a comparatively small, vine-covered archway crammed between two towering three-metre high hedges with many sets of sharp teeth. Lily furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. What an odd piece of flora to have to what was supposedly one of the grandest gardens in Britain. Together, she and James approached the archway – Lily making sure not to trip over her heels in the soft grass – and prepared to enter what was surely a media circus inside, not unlike the last year's charity match. As they stood under the archway, almost chest-to-chest, as it was clear it was only meant for one at a time, Lily eyed the bush curiously; they had never studied anything of the like during Herbology at Hogwarts. Its sets of sharp fangs seemed to jut out from the branches, looking rather out of place in the dense, dark green leafage. They lingered there for a moment, unsure of the protocol.

"Invitation, please." The archway seemed to speak of its own accord, and Lily startled in surprise. But it wasn't the fact that an inanimate object had the ability to speak that had phased her – she had spent far too long in the magical world for this to happen – it was rather the fact that it was the unmistakable voice of Alison Stern that had just echoed through a seemingly harmless object. James grinned at her antics as he moved to reach his breast pocket, his elbow almost concussing Lily in the process due to their lack of space, and held the delicate letter out for the hedge – wherever it kept its eyes – to see. A moment passed, and then the voice rang out again, "Thank you, you may enter."

Lily was still puzzled by the previous event as James pulled her along beside him as they crossed to the other side of the hedges and into the battlefield. For the next few dizzying moments, all Lily could see was the flashes of cameras and the scramble of reporters to reach the two of them... Evidently, of all the possible guest lists that had been published in the tabloids over the last few days', she and James were not listed in any of them. Clearly the ex-boyfriend and his new "home wrecker" girlfriend – also nominees for the Worst Couple of the Year Award – had not been considered respectable enough to be invited to such an event. Lily was sure that Alison had planned such a reaction. Why else would she have invited her favourite crash test dummy? Lily put on her best smile and stepped closer to James, where he wrapped his arm around her waist, trying to count how many cameras were on them and therefore a rough idea of how many media outlets had shown up. Questions were also being thrown, but the multitude of journalists speaking over one another made understanding them impossible. One witch, dressed in a ghastly set of baby pink dress robes, stepped up closer to them , shattering the two-feet personal space bubble previously observed by the others and also the blissful excuse for not answering questions due to noise levels. She looked horribly familiar.

"James Potter! Well, I have to say we weren't expecting you here today! Given your history with the groom, we would have thought you'd be on the wedding black list. Do you anything to say on the matter?" Lily felt James' arm around her tense, and he had begun gripping the material of her silk dress robes in a fist. She looked up at him, then at the witch who was also five inches taller than she. She gradually began to recognise the woman. Bianca from _Rumours!_ had again violated the simple, universal rule of personal space and general courtesy to interview couples who arrived together, just as she had the night of the charity match. Lily noticed James try to keep his most charming smile from turning into a sneer.

"The rivalries upheld on the Quidditch pitch are not personal, Bianca. Only an idiot would consider what happens in the air as a personal attack." He replied, now twisting Lily's expensive _Caro _robes in his fingers. Lily was glad that Bianca was both blocking her from the view of the other cameras and that her attention was firmly focused on James, as she felt her face contort with both the shock and knowing of James' words. _"Only an idiot would consider what happens in the air as a personal attack." _Ha! And what had he done only a few weeks ago? Bianca nodded and scribbled down James' reply, obviously displeased with the results of her probing. As she went to ask what was surely another controversial question, a deafening scream sounded from behind them. Instantly, all attention had turned to where it had come from, where a witch and wizard armed with cameras tried in vain to defend themselves against the fangs of the hedges. They did not have the correct invitation.

Just as quickly as the media had swarmed on them, they lost interest and crowded around the archway, careful not to get hit by the hedges themselves, but taking exclusive photos nonetheless. A wide smile broke on both Lily's and James' faces as they understood, as they also spun around 180 degrees to witness the action. Gatecrashers. Inevitable, after all, at a wedding like this. It finally occurred to Lily what the fanged, ominous-looking hedges were for. Wedding security. Lily shook her head at the scene. That was what you got for sharing the biggest day of your life with a few hundred of your closest friends, family and media representatives. The two failed gatecrashers soon fled, and the media circus calmed down slightly, and they had lost their interest in Lily and James.

It was only then, now having finally been granted the sense of sight after the camera flashes, and observing the setup, that it occurred to Lily just how lavish this ceremony was.

The Queen's Gardens had been sculptured in the mid 19th century, by a wealthy Muggle family who decided to showcase their love for roses through the only way they knew how; ordering their household's gardeners to create this paradise of flowers to be fit for a queen. Rumour had it that the wife passed away shortly after the gardens had been finally completed, and the wealthy Muggle had remarried a witch, leading to the gardens becoming a healthy mix of magical and Muggle flora. Ever since, the Queen's Gardens had been a botanical gem enjoyed only by the magical world. Lily had been once before, almost two years ago now, when she first had the chance to discover every part of the magical world possible – when she could still Apparate without getting arrested. She never knew it that it could be used as a venue for weddings, for she'd never seen any happen the day she went, nor had any friends who had gotten married there themselves. Of course, she _had _gone in mid-December.

Lily almost felt sorry for the fourteen-acre paradise. Such a huge, overdone event had brought many alterations in order to accommodate it. The centre clearing had been transformed into a sort of outdoor theatre. The Flutterby bushes that had already flowered for their single time this century had been moved aside to make room for the seating. The evergreen sugar blossom trees – whose flowers Lily was very accustomed as they were used to make Draughts of Peace – had been uprooted and replanted around the edges of the clearing rather than as a on the southern side. Merlin knew where the lake had gone. Both east and north of the theatre, two white gazebos had been constructed for the use of the bride, groom and their entourages. Their archways were concealed with hundreds of white fluttering curtains, to provide some privacy...

The seating faced southward, where a wedding arch and small platform for the officiator stood. It too had strips of white fabric woven into it. Beyond this was a marquee no doubt for the reception which hopefully contained a bar – Lily would need a drink after this ceremony – and a very visible oversized wedding cake, with an enchanted miniature bride and groom waltzing atop it.

It was beautiful, really. A bizarre mix of the magical and Muggle worlds' idea of a wedding ceremony, and it turned out absolutely stunning. Damn. Why hadn't _she_ thought of that?

In the theatre alone stood nearly two hundred guests, all dressed in what were surely overpriced outfits; Lily spotted numerous pairs of dragonshide heels here and there, another _Caro _on a model-like witch who ducked into the bride's gazebo, a wizard with a matching shirt to James who played for the Chudley Cannons sitting towards the front, saving another good seat for whoever he had brought with him. Yet again, some magical fashionistas had attempted to follow what was surely becoming a trend of together Muggle fashions with wizarding ones. An older wizard had shown up wearing a kilt with his robes, another younger witch sporting a Dolce and Gabbana dress with a fur-lined tartan cloak. One woman wore what seemed to be a 20th century ballgown – complete with corset and mink wrap. Lily shook her head at all of these bizarre fashion choices. How much would one be paid to design outfits that were both Muggle- and wizard-friendly? Perhaps if this PR thing didn't work out, that could be another option. She shook her head again, this time quite irritably. Now was not the time to be questioning her angle. She'd done that already, she knew where she and James were going to go from here. They'd hit almost rock bottom, there was nowhere to go but up.

A bell sounded from the direction of the wedding arch and the guests began to convene in the theatre. The front rows filled up quickly, mostly by chattering young women who all wore a sickly shade of pea green and heels that Lily was surprised they could walk in, much less scamper to grab the best seats in the house in. Bridesmaids, Lily mused as she found a seat herself, how Muggle of Alison. Others from the official wedding party had begun to appear as well. Philippe Baxter and another man Lily recognised as the Keeper for the Montrose Magpies took up their positions in front of the arch, both wearing expressions of anxiety and excitement. She almost laughed, she should have expected that. It would be more than likely for James to have that Sirius Black as his best man at their wedding…assuming that happened of course. She would more likely kill him before they got to the wedding day.

The outdoor theatre eventually fell to silence once everyone was seated. Cameras flashed from all angles around the clearing, and fervent whispers from reporters to their Quick-Quotes Quill describing the atmosphere remained the only sound. All four hundred and something of the guests were literally holding their breath in expectation. Utter silence filled the outdoor theatre for many long moments. One minute passed, then two, then five. The theatre began to whisper again, "where was she?", "had she ditched him at the altar?", "had she been kidnapped by that crazy ex-boyfriend of hers, James Potter?" People began to turn their heads, wondering what in Merlin's name was going on.

After ten minutes, a collective gasp sounded from those sitting at the back, towards the northern gazebo. Inwardly, Lily rolled her eyes. She had not joined in the urgent whispers and rumours, knowing Alison it was a dramatic pause. That's what she would have done. But, finally bowing down to peer pressure and pure human curiosity, she followed the other guests' gazes, and she too lost her breath.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Once again, I must sincerely thank EVERYONE for all the wonderful support that you've been giving. It means so much to me, so thank you._

_Remember that constructive criticism is always accepted and appreciated._

_-xSymnia  
_


	17. Perfectly Good

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: A Perfectly Good Reason Not to Get Married**

* * *

**12:06 pm. Day One Hundred and Ninety of official employment. Current mood: equivocal.**

* * *

In the past one hundred and ninety days, Lily had learned much about her predecessor. Not that she particularly wanted to, but she had nonetheless. Alison Stern graduated from Hogwarts at the top of her class; a Ravenclaw with a surprisingly large amount of Slytherin tendencies, Lily had noted. She had captained the Ravenclaw Quidditch team during her senior years, as Seeker. She had landed the role as James Potter's publicist through a mix of charm, talent, and knowledge of Quidditch. According to various sources, she knew everyone who was anyone. This was surprising, since she was Muggle-born, but this did explain her affection for stiletto heels and Muggle fashions. Her fancy for ruining people's lives however, was still a mystery. In the last one hundred and ninety days, Lily had found out far more than she wished to about her arch enemy – the one who positively _glowed _with beauty in her wedding dress.

Alison graced the aisle dressed platinum blonde head to six-inch dragonshide heels in a brilliant, blinding sky blue. Her dress was a stunning mix of the magical and Muggle cultures – the fairytale, Cinderella style of a Muggle wedding dress and the obscure colours and materials of a magical one. For instance, her earrings were almost certainly made with the magical properties in mind – tiny spheres of sapphire for good luck. The fascinator fixed upon her head appeared to be made of unicorn hair. As the theatre collectively regained their breath, cameras flashed from every angle as Alison made her way down the narrow aisle, a rare, almost anxious smile on her face. That wasn't normal. Alison Stern was neve_r anxious_. It could be called a bad omen, but then Divination was a fraudulent subject. It just did not bode well.

* * *

**1:35 pm. Day One Hundred and Ninety of official employment. Current mood: perturbed.**

* * *

Lily had never sat through a longer wedding ceremony, although the official _Witch Weekly _stopwatch would time only forty-three minutes and sixteen seconds before the long-awaited snog under the enchanted arch. Surprisingly, listening to your greatest rival and her husband-to-be exchange nauseatingly loving vows for three-quarters of an hour was not enough to bore you to death. But it certainly came close.

Lily groaned as she pulled off her heels and tenderly massaged her feet, thanking Merlin that the continual sinking of her stiletto heels into the soft earth underfoot had not broken her ankles. To say that she was now very much regretting donning the ridiculous six-inch heels would be an understatement. She had learnt her lesson the hard way; high heels –even magical ones – did not mix well with gardens. She was probably never going to wear heels ever again. There was still more than an hour before the reception began, yet everyone still seemed to have something to do or somewhere to be. Those who weren't casting Numbing Charms on their feet were bustling around, preparing for whatever happened next. The official photographs of each and every guest were being taken under the wedding arch. The official _Witch Weekly _interviews were carried out in the currently unused eastern gazebo. Most of the media representatives had taken up shop in the theatre, using chairs they had Transfigured into tables to write up the remainder of their articles. They must have the sunset deadline. Lily did not envy them. For now, she and James had nothing to do, a welcome change to the media circus that had pounced on them the moment they arrived. Unfortunately, it wasn't going to last. They were up for their interview and photos in fifteen minutes. The chances of hiding from the events manager were slim.

James returned from the refreshments table with two glasses of butterbeer for them both. It was a shame that none of the more alcoholic stuff was going to be served until the reception started, because Lily could really have gone for a Firewhiskey now. Nonetheless, she grinned, accepted the glass and moved her legs off the bench to allow James to sit beside her. For a while, neither of them said anything, perfectly content just watching the background insanity that was Alison's wedding. _Merlin_, who would put themselves through this? Who wanted a wedding that had to be protected from gatecrashers? Who wanted to spend a small fortune on _security hedges_? If this wedding had taught Lily anything, she quickly decided, it was to not share the happiest day of your life with three hundred of your closest friends, relatives and media representatives. Lily meditatively sipped her butterbeer.

"James, can you promise me something?" She said, laughing as she witnessed the bridesmaid Montrose-Keeper had been chatting up storm across the gardens, shrieking at the top of her voice. Cameras went off in every direction as that Bianca from _Rumours! _intercepted her for an impromptu interview. James' attention shifted from his own butterbeer glass – which he had almost downed in one go – to Lily and they locked eyes, "When we get married…if I think for even a _second _that we should do this whole big white media-infiltrated wedding thing...please kill me." James' gaze intensified, and Lily found her smile widening.

"Ah, I couldn't do that, Lily." He replied, breaking their gaze to down what was left of his butterbeer, "I mean, I've had my heart set on a mid-air Quidditch wedding since I was a kid!" An expression of pure horror crossed Lily's face as a mental image of exchanging vows a hundred feet up in a Quidditch uniform crossed her mind. James burst into laughter, causing a few of the other guests to turn and stare. Lily felt her cheeks redden a little as she too joined in. It was almost a godsend when the young events manager hopped over in her grossly expensive heels to announce that it was their turn for the _Witch Weekly _interview. James quickly shut up as she approached. The events manager broke into a smile.

"James Potter." She said James' name with the ease of an old friend; like one she hadn't seen in decades. James' eyes widened as he recognised her.

"Gemma." He greeted, getting to his feet. Lily studied the newcomer curiously. She was the only other woman at the wedding wearing _Caro_, hers a grander design than Lily's, pale lilac with a large bow at the shoulder. Her platinum blonde hair was out, falling over her shoulders in waves and small curls. She looked familiar, "I'm assuming _you're _the reason behind my appearance on Alison's guest list." Gemma the Events Manager laughed and accepted his welcoming hug. She was just as tall as James with her heels on.

"Oh, I just looked over it actually. Ali didn't let me do much in preparation, she just asked me to make sure everything ran smoothly today." Once they broke apart, they swapped ear-to-ear grins and James turned Gemma to face Lily.

"Lily, this is Gemma Stern. Alison's little sister." Lily's eyes widened and she would have fallen backwards in shock if not for the bench. _Sister?_ She never considered that Alison may have had siblings; she had always just assumed she was an only child, and a spoilt one at that. How could the world deal with _two _Alisons? She eyed this long-lost relative in half curiosity, half pure astonishment. Gemma however, was either amused or unfazed by her puzzlement and held out a hand.

"Oh, I'm sorry we haven't met before! I mean, I've heard so much about you. I didn't realise you three all went to the same school!" She spoke incredibly fast, and most of her words ran together in excitement. Lily took Gemma's outstretched hand cautiously, unsure of what to make of this hyperactive younger Alison.

"She's talked about me, has she?" Brilliant. If there was anyone Alison had been unloading all her bitterness held towards Lily to, it would have been her sister. She half-expected to be yelled at or slapped, but Gemma's smile just grew bigger if it were at all possible.

"Oh yeah! Ali's been meaning to introduce us for a while now, I think. But since things have gotten hectic for her with this wedding, I guess it's a bit hard to find a date. I mean, I told her _months _ago that anytime's great for me 'cause I'm off school, but apparently it wasn't so much for her. And now that I'm _back _at school, it's not good for me either! That's why managing her wedding is so good for me! I get a day off from school and I get to meet all her _enchanting _friends and I get to experience a magical wedding first-hand. I mean it's like a whole new culture! It's really exciting!" Gemma Stern could pass as her sister minus five years. They were the same height, they had the same hair and the same eyes, but Gemma's lacked the coolness of the latter that Lily had grown accustomed to seeing in Alison's. Her temperament also seemed to be the exact opposite of her sister's. But there was one thing that had irked Lily. As Prefect and Head Girl, Lily had prided herself on knowing each and every student in Hogwarts. The name Gemma Stern did not ring a bell, and surely Lily would remember meeting the little sister of Alison Stern.

"So you're still at Hogwarts then?" Lily questioned, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Oh no! I _wish_!" Gemma replied, shaking her head at breakneck speed, "I'm at Sevenoaks. Hopefully I'll go to LSE next year. I mean, I've been studying like mad for my A-levels, I hope it pays off! It was a godsend to come here and have a bit of a break." So Gemma was a Muggle. Hardly surprising, since magical siblings born to the same Muggle parents must be a rarity. How she managed to put up with a sister like Alison and still be so cheerful was beyond Lily. There were some things in the world she would never understand. A look of sudden realisation crossed Gemma's face. She had clearly just remembered what she had initially come for.

"Oh my God, I forgot! You guys have your _Witch Weekly _interview now! Come on, you're late!" And with that, a huge smile still plastered across her face, Gemma dashed across the clearing towards the eastern gazebo. James followed, easily catching up to the runaway events manager with his long legs. Lily laughed, suddenly feeling like a mother with two hyperactive children as she too made her way to the gazebo. She reached it last, where neither James nor mini- Alison seemed at all fazed or tired from their three hundred metre dash. In fact, they had started bickering over which sport was more strenuous; basketball or Quidditch.

"…oh no! No broomsticks! You have to jump to get it through the hoop."

"If you did that in Quidditch, you'd fall a hundred feet."

"That's why it's on _the ground_!"

"But flying is the _best_ part of the beautiful game! You Muggles miss out on so much!"

"Oh, beautiful game? The only beautiful game is basketball!"

"I'm _so_ gonna teach you Quidditch. One hour, Gemma, and you'll be exhausted."

"Oh, _ten minutes _of running 'round the basketball court and you'll be dead!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Oh yeah. We're gonna play both one day, then we'll see who has it tougher." Gemma noticed Lily ascending the steps of the gazebo and abruptly laughed, as if caught fighting with her brother by mum and looking for an excuse. She hastily pushed James through the curtains, "Well go in, go in! Come find me at the reception and we'll catch up!" There was a spluttering of a reply from the opposite side of the curtains, where it sounded like James had fallen over the back of a lounge from Gemma's push. She turned to Lily. Her massive grin must have begun hurting her cheeks by now, surely. "It was really nice meeting you Lily! We'll talk later, yeah? At the reception?" Then, without waiting for an answer, she whisked Lily through the curtains too, sending her almost crashing into the same couch which had grounded her boyfriend. Lily caught her breath, and did a once-over to check that she was still in one piece. She glanced at James, who was wearing a toothy, childlike grin and giggled once more.

"Well that was…bizarre…"

* * *

**3:31 pm. Day One Hundred and Ninety of official employment. Current mood: too tired from the insanity of this day for any more surprises.**

* * *

If the venue of the ceremony had been breathtaking in appearance, then the inside of the reception marquee was pretty much fatal. Lily had no doubt that Alison had her hand in creating this lavish indoor botanical gardens. If there was one thing she knew how to do, Lily admitted, it was decorating. Thirty or so tables were positioned around the edges of the marquee, leaving space for a large dance floor. The tables themselves were dressed in white tablecloths, and each had large vase of beautiful red flowers that Lily did not recognise. Candles smelling of lavender flickered everywhere, clearly meant to last until after nightfall from the height of them. The ceiling glittered with fairy lights – the Muggle kind, Lily noted – and many hanging pot plants which brushed the heads of the taller of the guests. With all the differently coloured dress robes, the marquee was effectively a rainbow garden. It a sight to behold even for the magical world, and the press clearly loved it. But the bar, however, still seemed to be the highlight for many guests.

"…I missed it by _that_ much." James explained, spreading his thumb and forefinger an inch apart to demonstrate how close his first goal had been at last year's charity match, "We lost the bloody match with_ that_ goal. And Baxter over there…" he gestured to Philippe, who stood up on the stage at the front of the marquee with new wife, "caught the Snitch before I could make it up! What a dark moment it was. " The small crowd which had initially gathered around the bar for the free alcohol – comprising mostly of Baxter's Magpie friends – had stopped to listen and snicker at James' story. Apparently his brilliant match-losing miss had become something of a classic moment in recent Quidditch history, both for famous and infamous reasons. Lily inwardly smirked. The magical world really did take their Quidditch seriously. An older guest, who looked to be ex-Quidditch player himself from his build, clapped her boyfriend on the back in sympathy.

"Ah mate," he said following another swig of Firewhiskey, "don't beat yourself up too much. Next time, eh? Course, that's if Puddlemere don't throw you off the team for that miss!" And again, the crowd launched into hearty laughter. Lily simpered and leaned closer onto James' shoulder affectionately,

"Aw, I don't think he will be." She replied for him, "Sooner Sirius Black than my James." And, knowing exactly how the quickly enlarging crowd would react, Lily gave James a peck on the cheek in support. Predictably, this was met with a roar of delight and somewhat pity from the other males. James was quickly drowned in the sea of slaps on the back, hands messing up his already unruly hair and empathetic comments of having gotten whipped. She barely escaped without spilling her wine glass amongst the horde of bodies. Giggling to herself, and now sure that none of her wine (or anybody else's) had stained her new dress robes, Lily turned her attention to the commotion outside of the bar's crowd….and came face to face with Gemma Stern. Her smile widened, remembering her previous encounter.

"Everything's okay, then Gemma? All running smoothly?" She asked, nearing the well-dressed but now slightly disheveled figure. It seemed that Gemma's boundless energy and constant running around had finally had some effect. But despite this, she nodded furiously as ever in reply.

"Oh yeah! It's all downhill from here, I think. Just some speeches, some dancing and then cake." Lily glanced to the three-foot tall cake atop the centre table, "But I can't get over how fast today has gone! I guess panicking about everything that could possibly go wrong really makes time fly! How does Ali do it? Or did you maybe like cast a charm or something to make it seem like that? I mean, with you guys' ways, I never really know!" Lily turned her attention back to Gemma, eyebrows furrowed.

"No, no charms involved." She answered. Something else mentioned sparked her interest, "You 'never really know'?" Gemma's head was down near her clipboard, otherwise engaged.

"Oh, you know, you just don't notice magic around you. _You _even more so I guess, Lily, being in the middle of it all the time. Jealous! I'm sure you drove your siblings nuts whenever you came home from that wonderful school of yours!" She laughed quite manically, "Anyway, I have to run. I have to find Chris for the best man's speech. I'm pretty sure he's hiding in a corner somewhere." And just like last time, she quickly dashed off, leaving Lily speechless and rather oddly perturbed. Gemma had seen magic before. Was that possible? Was that even _allowed_? Surely that was some sort of violation of the International Statute of Wizarding Sec-

"'_Sooner Sirius Black than my James?'" _James' mocking voice unexpectedly broke Lily out of her thoughts, which dissolved instantly. He looked a little worse off than she had left him only moments ago; the Magpies certainly played rough, "Seriously Lily, if you wanted to get away _that_ bad, you could have just asked for a quickie. No hesitations there. I probably would've gotten away with fewer injuries too." He entwined his arms around her from behind and kissed the top of her head. Lily chuckled and turned around in his arms so that she was pressed close to his chest. She stared up at him with huge eyes. He looked so handsome in his silken emerald green robes – which matched her eyes, he had pointed out more than once today.

"Well, you're quite the entertainer, James Potter." She replied, nodding towards the now-dispersing crowd at the bar, "Perhaps you should consider a career on stage if you doget kicked off Puddlemere." James' gaze met hers, and Lily felt her heart flutter. He didn't seem to be able to stop smiling. It was contagious.

"And _why_ would Puddlemere fire their best, most handsome, most accurate Chaser in history?" Lily sighed, feigning deep concentration,

"I don't know. Why don't we find him and ask him?" James gaped; pretending to be mortally hurt by this comment, but quickly broke into another grin, unable to keep a straight face. He laughed and their lips met together into a slow, passionate kiss and for many long moments they were the only people inside the beautiful botanical marquee.

A bell rang somewhere off in the distance, rudely reawakening them from their shared dream. Gemma must have been able to find Chris the Best Man aka Montrose-Keeper after all. And, as if the four hundred guests had rehearsed, they began to congregate together before the stage for the clearly long-awaited speeches from the wedding party. Lily and James found themselves pushed towards the front by the throng, able to place their elbows on the stage if not for the hundreds of candles lining the edge of it. They exchanged bemused glances, but remained bound together nonetheless. Chris the Best Man appeared to be shaking in his boots with nerves for his speech, and was being quietly consoled by Baxter. The female one, that was. It was funny; Lily would have never taken Montrose-Keeper to be the kind who feared public speaking. But, hey, each to his own.

The best man's speech was short and sweet. It was the usual spiel about how long he had known Philippe, Quidditch, how perfect the bride and groom were for each other, Quidditch. There was a remark about last year's League semi finals – with much groaning from the other Magpies in attendance – and a comment about the charity match, which just as many cheers and whoops from the audience. Lily made a mental note to ban the words "Quidditch" and "Puddlemere" from her own wedding. But soon enough, Chris the Best Man began to wind up his speech.

"Well it isn't exactly traditional, but I'm gonna pass the floor to the lovely bride, who has _insisted _on having her say. I'm sure it won't be for the last time." The audience laughed at this, and Chris' face restored to some of its original colour having reached the end of his time in the limelight, "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the delightful Alison Baxter."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Wow. You guys are just awesome. Thank you so much for all the support!_

_Constructive criticism is always accepted and appreciated. _

_-xSymnia_


	18. Since Will & Kate

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: "The Greatest Wedding Since William and Kate's"**

* * *

**3:56 pm. Day One Hundred and Ninety of official employment. Current mood: suspicious.**

* * *

Close up, Alison Stern looked older. Perhaps it was the makeup finally starting to wear off after the day's adventures or the bright lights of the indoor botanical garden melting it off. Maybe it was just the stress of planning the wedding of the century, or worrying about what her teenaged sister/events manager was getting up to. Perhaps just seeing an actual human expression on Alison's face made Lily consider all of these things. To be honest, she was caught off guard. Alison was _smiling_, but not that devil- wears -dragonshide-heels one that she had grown so accustomed to. Alison looked positively crazed with happiness to be speaking to her favourite four hundred friends, family and journalists.

"I think we should all give Chris a hand here," she started, gesturing towards the best man who had now bowed off the stage and sought the refuge of a large Firewhiskey. A round of applause obediently followed, "It's not easy to explain…to describe in exact detail…a friendship with someone who loves his racing broom more than anything else." The crowd collectively chuckled at this remark, and Lily almost instinctively glanced up at James. From where she stood in front of him, his arms tightly clasped around her waist, she could only see his mouth and chin. But James' focus was on the two Montrose players who stood beside the stage, making a mental note of how superior his own racing broom was to theirs. Funny, Lily mused, turning her attention back to the bride on stage, she had once jokingly described James the same way.

"I can't believe that I'm here today…with all of you…at _my_ wedding. It's still a bit of a shock to me…I honestly didn't think that such a wonderful day could crop up so quickly. It seems only yesterday that Philippe proposed to me." Alison glanced lovingly at her husband, much to the enjoyment of those standing before the stage, "I know that some people think that this was all too fast…I guess you never know these days with those dramas you see in the tabloids…" Lily felt several pairs of eyes drift her way, "but for Philippe and me…it couldn't have been a better moment." Just like the ceremony, in the absence of someone speaking, a constant, almost eerie sound of Quick Quotes Quills on parchment seemed to echo through the marquee. Some of the journalists' deadlines must have already passed, but not one of them was going to miss this surely classic speech. Lily's decision never to invite the media to her wedding only strengthened at this. The scribbling was very distracting to her constant scrutiny of Alison Stern…Baxter.

"There are so many people I want to thank today…" Alison said, pulling out a piece of parchment which surely had some ungodly length of names listed on it. Lily found herself phasing out of most of the thanksgivings, which were spoken so quickly and precisely that she was sure Alison had rehearsed it too many times to count. The warmth and comfort of James' figure certainly didn't help her focus. Finally, after what seemed like centuries, her speech began to close. The piece of parchment was again folded in her hands as Alison flipped her long blonde locks over her shoulder and crept further towards the edge of the stage, careful not to let her tulle skirt catch on fire. But something seemed off.

"Finally, there's one other very special person I need to thank today…" Lily's mind - having been primed for every catastrophe possible from her last few months as James' publicist - kicked in before the last words of Alison's speech, and she intuitively held on to James' arms a little tighter as the bride invited her ex-boyfriend onto stage. Many heads turned towards the couple standing at the very base of the stage – two wizards who undoubtedly knew of the impending thanksgivings and had picked a prime spot for the speeches. Very aware of their newfound limelight, Lily put on her best smile and patted James' arm, as if she was giving him permission to climb onto the stage. And James, a media-spotlight veteran, did not hesitant - for fear that it would spark huge gossipy debate (a very justified fear, Lily noted) – and ascended the nearby steps to meet Mrs. Blonde Bombshell herself. Lily fought to keep a demure smile on her lips as she watched Alison kindly kiss his check, smiling like a young schoolgirl with her new beau. She took his hand into hers and patted it lightly, her Cheshire smile never wavering. The scene almost seemed to be taken straight out of some Muggle soap opera.

"James…it's you that I'm never going to be able to thank properly. I'm never going to be able to _properly_ express my gratitude…for you acting as our cupid." In her heels, Alison stood eye-to-eye level with James, and her intense gaze did not leave his own once. James' own friendly, toothy grin had not faltered once since climbing onto the stage and in the crosshairs of the snake pit. The smile could not fool Lily. James was one hell of an actor – she knew this from enough previous experience – but embraced with the ex-girlfriend who had come close to ruining his reputation could not render even an Oscar-winning actor unfazed. But something gave Lily a lump in her throat. James…as Alison's cupid?

"I'm _never_ going to be able to thank you for introducing me to the love of my life, James. And I'm never going to be able to thank you for convincing me to even consider that this was even possible. Or for not murdering me after my _ultimate_ betrayal of the Puddlemere United team." Alison's betrayal of Puddlemere United was the least of Lily's worries, but the Montrose-backing audience ate it up and the marquee was again filled with laughter. James' smile stretched itself wider and Alison too laughed. A weight had been lifted off her shoulders; she had finally thanked the man who introduced her to the life of her life in proper Alison Stern fashion; in front of every magical media outlet in Britain. Everyone in the magical world would now know how nice a guy James really was. How brilliant a matchmaker he was. But that seemed too nicer deed for Alison Baxter to have done.

* * *

The moment that Alison had left the stage and the focus of the crowd had returned to the bar, Lily had lost sight of James. In the noise of the mob swarming to the opposite side of the marquee, even though she had been standing no less than six feet from his position, he could have Apparated and she wouldn't have known. For a moment, she considered if he had actually done this; perhaps to avoid the crowd and grab a six-pack of Firewhiskey for himself, but her boyfriend's bizarre disappearance could not have been brought on by an obsession with magical alcohol. Plus, he wouldn't have left her stranded at Alison St-_Baxter's _wedding. Not even a slimy Slytherin git would do that.

Lily spun around one-eighty degrees, scoping out the crowded marquee. The temperature had chilled since the noon ceremony, and many of the guests had remained inside the heated marquee – expensive silk dress robes provided no warmth at all. And with four hundred guests in here, there wasn't much hope of finding James quickly. _Damnit._ Sighing in defeat and knowing there was no other way; Lily took off in the same general direction of the crowds. Perhaps – Merlin forbid – he had actually tried to beat the rush to the bar. She quickly reached the fringes, spread out halfway across the dance floor.

Other guests scowled at Lily's rudeness as she pushed herself through the masses, hoping that she as moving towards the bar. Evidently, they had not heard her numerous apologies or noticed her care to place the stiletto heels somewhere else than a foot. Upon reaching the bar, she still had no luck, instead only finding the media circus she had taken so much care to avoid in the last few hours. Ignoring the half of her mind begging her to buy a much-needed Firewhiskey, she took off once more, somehow finding her way to the outer curtains of the marquee. It was then that a figure with an oh-so familiar mess of black hair caught her eye.

The outdoor theatre was deserted. Of course. It was much warmer, much brighter and there was more music and alcohol inside the marquee, so no one would have chosen to sit alone outside. Except, she realised, a certain Quidditch captain. James sat in the front row of the white plastic chairs, hunched over and hands cradling a large glass of Firewhiskey. So he _had _made it to the bar after all. His pointed hat sat on the chair to the right of him, half a wedding program dropped carelessly on the grass below. His hair stuck out in all directions and Lily wondered if he had run his hands through it in frustration or anger (with James' hair, one could never tell). He mustn't have heard her approach, or perhaps he was too lost in his own thoughts to care. Lily furrowed her eyebrows. Obviously that speech and succeeding parade of Alison's must have caused this, she should have guessed. Who wanted to be publicly thanked and humiliated for introducing your ex-girlfriend to her new husband?

It was only when James went for another large gulp of Firewhiskey did he notice Lily standing two feet away and she knew something was definitely wrong. On any normal occasion, James would have stopped mid-gulp, pulled a comic expression and then made some kind of remark about Lily's own new infatuation with the drink. But this was no ordinary occasion. Attending the wedding of your arch rival and ex-girlfriend could never be called an ordinary occasion. That was, unless you lived inside some Muggle soap opera. He didn't even open with a grin.

"I'm not angry. And I'm not upset." James stated shortly after draining his glass. He had known what Lily was going to say before she said it, and he could probably tell her concern from a mile away. She said nothing, sat down on the chair beside him and studied his expression a little more closely. He was acting again – not that she needed to be this close to tell – his eyes and his inability to chivalrously offer her some Firewhiskey said it all. It was obvious, wasn't it? She had always known that James resented Baxter. It wasn't just a stupid team rivalry or grudge held over a ten-point loss. It wasn't because Baxter had never been arrested for public drunkenness or nuisance during the Quidditch season. It hadn't even been because Alison was dating someone from the rival team.

"It was a classic Alison thing to do…calling you up onto stage like that." James didn't answer, but leant back into the chair and stretched his arms out, the Firewhiskey bottle dropped unceremoniously beside the torn program. Lily analysed his features further. His eyes showed no redness; he hadn't been crying. But something was definitely off. For a moment, she tore her eyes off his expression and stared back towards the marquee, where loud cheering had erupted. They must have just cut the cake. Lily couldn't see it, but she could imagine Alison lovingly feeding Philippe a piece of cake - cameras flashing in every direction – loving the attention. No. She wouldn't do that at her wedding. She'd want a small ceremony. Something as opposite to this. As opposite to Petunia's as she could – for Petunia would certainly have a wedding alike to the one she was at now. Lily swallowed awkwardly, not knowing exactly how to phrase her next sentence.

"You really loved her." It wasn't a question, or a venture for James to speak. It was a statement, one that Lily had once loathed thinking and now had to accept. Strange. It didn't cause her to feel any hate or fury towards Alison like everything else did. With James like this, more vulnerable than she had ever seen him before, it was more a quiet submission to something she should have realised a long time ago. He tensed ever so slightly as her words met his ears; he too swallowed awkwardly like his throat had gone dry.

"…yeah. I did." There was no denying it. It was the only reason for James to act like this, to act like he had ever since she had first met him. For him to hate Baxter so much, for him to enjoy waging war on his ex-publicist so much. But for some reason, his admitting to it made it seem so much more…dramatic…and saddening. Lily continued,

"And you introduced her to Baxter." Still James did not look at her, and she didn't blame him. She would act in the same manner had their roles been reversed.

"We were mates. Me, Phil, Sirius. We were mates before we played for different teams." James must have wanted to say this for a long time. But in true James Potter fashion, something had come up or he just never found a time "when he could be bothered". Perhaps finally getting it out – at a wedding, of _all _times - would give some sort of closure. Lily sighed sympathetically. Of _course_ they had been friends once. She should have known that. She should have known that James would befriend the one other just as talented, handsome and self-confident Quidditch player in the League. And in hindsight, she probably should have realised this earlier. She _was _his girlfriend after all. It was then that things began to make sense.

"And Alison cheated on you with your best mate." Lily almost laughed. In any other context, she would have thought this situation had come straight out of a bad romance novel or Muggle chick flick. Yet here she was, actually living it. Alison was the perfect enemy for that cheap romance novel. "Bitch." Lily added. She moved her focus back to James and found herself staring straight into his eyes. Those lovely eyes…hazel. She found herself having to ask something else, to understand this whole thing a little better, "How long was it 'til you found out?"

"A couple of months. I found out…and we broke up." Talking about it didn't seem to be as hard now for James. Maybe he just needed to tell somebody.

"Was that when she resigned?"

"…yeah. We broke up when she told me she had cheated on me with Baxter. I didn't realise it was that serious until..."

"…until the charity match." Lily finished, sighing in resignation. Flashes from the Christmas charity match flooded her mind; Alison appearing with Izzy Skeptor, Alison flashing her ring, herself yelling at James, slapping him and breaking down in tears…the pure shock on his face when he heard of Alison's engagement to his ex-best friend. _Merlin. _She _should_ have realised this sooner. All the signs were there, everything would have been obvious if she just _looked_. She had been far too wound up with her own war on Alison to notice James'. Several long moments of silence followed.

Lily entwined one hand with James' and cupped his cheek with the other, her gaze never staggering from his. He wasn't as tense any longer. She wet her lips as she phrased together her next few words. James had to hear this, to know that she was not going to be another Alison. Lily's words came out quieter than she had expected, barely above a whisper. "I'd never dream of doing that to you, James." A smile brightened on James' face and Lily felt hers redden from the sight of this. Their lips quickly met. Lily sensed that this was the beginning of everything finally going right.

* * *

**5:45 pm. Issue 58, Volume 4. Current working title: Wedding Drama! **_**Rumours!' **_**Best Investigatory Journalist Uncovers Bride Alison Baxter's Deepest, Darkest Secrets.**

* * *

She wasn't expecting much from the supposed "best wedding of the century", because frankly, if she knew Alison Stern – and she did, beyond _all _doubt – the best wedding of the century was not going to be remembered as the best wedding of the century. Knowing Alison Stern, something was going to overshadow the event. Something dramatic. Something unexpected. Something that no one would ever forget where they were at the time they heard about it. And hearing that that ex-boyfriend James Potter introduced the two lovebirds…well, she certainly thought that was going to be it for the day. The other journalists had pounced on it of course – and that story was going to be old by the time it hit the newsstands early tomorrow morning. In all honesty, she thought that the day would end the same way it began. She would be an investigatory journalist for _Rumours! _magazine. She would be the main journalist focusing on the Potter-Evans-Baxter-Baxter fiasco. She would still have no new leads. No new news. But it was different now. Good things were coming Bianca's way. And it was all because of a cigarette.

Alison Stern – like so many other guests that she had invited (sickening, shallow people) - disliked the smell and presence of tobacco smoke. She would not allow it inside her beautiful marquee. So, she had sent her ditzy little Muggle sister to tell Bianca to take it outside if she wanted to smoke it. At first, Bianca was indignant. She was merely calming herself for what was sure to be a bitch of a night. Nothing of note had occurred yet – unless you counted Alison's speech, which she did not – and nothing was sure to happen for the rest of this bore of a night. Like every event that she had attended recently, it was going to be a letdown.

So, she pulled out a ciggie and lighter from her _Caro _bag and grudgingly vacated the marquee to the presently-deserted and freezing outdoor theatre. It was much warmer and happier inside the marquee, so no sane person would choose to be out here. No sane person, Bianca quickly found, except for her two favourite people in the world, James Potter and Lily Evans. A James Potter and Lily Evans who certainly and clearly did not want to be seen out here. Now, w_hy _exactly they were out here, Bianca couldn't care less. Perhaps they wanted some privacy, but that was not her concern. She was an investigatory journalist for Merlin's sakes! But _what _exactly they were doing out here, now that was something that Bianca needed to know. Something she needed to know _now_. She was pretty sure her career would depend on it.

So Bianca crept further around the side of the marquee so that her two subjects were better in her sight. From where she stood, they were positioned beneath the wedding arch. Inwardly, she laughed. How ironic. James Potter sat alone, staring at the ground, seemingly oblivious to the woman who stood right in front of him. Bianca furrowed her eyebrows. What in Merlin's name could have caused this? James Potter, Chaser….upset? What an exclusive! Was this because of Alison's speech perhaps? Certainly, unless something bigger, better and more exciting had torn up that pretty little world of his! Bianca crept even further around the side of the marquee, sure to blend in with the white curtains in her similarly coloured dress robes. From here, she could only just hear their conversation. But that was enough for her.

Normally at this point, she would have pulled out her Quick Quotes Quill to note down absolutely everything that these two said – it was sure to be juicy, gossipy and extremely exclusive to her and only her – but in the otherwise silent theatre, she worried that it would notify them of her location. So she instead gripped her cigarette and lighter tighter, as if they would turn up the volume to James Potter and Lily Evans' conversation.

"…a classic Alison thing to do." Evans said. She now sat beside her boyfriend, concern curtaining her face. _What _was a classic Alison thing to do? Invite her ex-boyfriend/best friend/cupid onto stage? Throw an over-the-top wedding to bring fame and glory to herself? Both of these things would keep the general public on her side. Bianca had to admit, Alison Baxter was a real piece of work, but a talented piece of work.

She felt her heart drop as a deafening cheer rang through the marquee and Lily Evans' famous emerald eyes shot her way. _Shit._ She was made. Bianca hastily lit up her cigarette and acted inconspicuous. Of _course_ she wasn't eavesdropping in on the conversation of the century. She took a deep, cleansing inhale and turned her back to the couple. But Evans did not call her out. She did not loudly wonder who else came outside for some fresh air or change the subject. Instead she returned to her conversation with James and said the words that Bianca knew were going to put _Rumours! _and herself back on top. New bride Alison Baxter wasn't all that she said she was. She was not the unfortunate result of James Potter's uncontrollable lust, but a liar and cheat who sought out the company of best friend Philippe Baxter. Oh, this was _good_. This was _amazing_. This was going to get Bianca a bigger payrise and jump in status than any amount of purple-carpet conversations with James Potter could ever do.

So now, she sat at the bar amongst all the other defeated journalists. Those who had barely made their deadline tonight. But Bianca didn't have to work to a deadline today – she would hand this in tomorrow and her boss wouldn't think twice about adding this exclusive report to the week's edition. A special wedding issue to rival _Witch Weekly's _"official" journal of the event. One that would knock it off the top spot.

Bianca scribbled down the last sentences of her article with a smug smile plastered upon her face. There was still another hour before the reception finished, but nothing was going to keep this beautiful, career-making exclusive report from the _Rumours! _printing press. And with a final, knowing glance towards the other two-bit reporters who also sat around the bar, Bianca vanished from the marquee with a loud _crack_.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_I'm terribly sorry for the wait for this chapter. Life got a bit insane recently._

_Thank you _again_ for all the wonderful support. It really keeps me going!_

_Until next time,_

_-xSymnia_


	19. Unforseen

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: An Unforeseen Interlude**

* * *

**2:42 pm. Day Two Hundred and Fifteen of official employment. Current mood: intrigued.**

* * *

Lily's utter laziness had gotten the better of her in the recent months. Not only had her unanswered inbox filled past breaking point, but her desk had apparently decided to forgo its weekly Self-Dusting Charm in her absence, her filing cabinet had thrown the contents of its top three drawers to the floor in protest of its disuse and her desk chair had vanished; perhaps it had moved out. To top it all off, a half-empty cup of a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino must have been knocked off her desk in the months between her visits and there was now a chocolate brown stain on the Persian rug. With all of this mess, the cloud nine office was rather creepy. Previously, it had thrived on Lily's positive work ethic and constant organisation, which had soured to a routine fortnightly clean and then complete abandonment since. Clearly, her furniture had taken upon some of her bad habits in her nonattendance.

Lily relaxed into the hard-backed chair visitor's chair – the only one available in her comfortable one's absence - crossed her arms tightly and tried not to think about the workload waiting for her inside that overflowing inbox. She shouldn't have left it to this. Honestly, any idiot knew how hard it was to start working again after an extended break. She had set herself up for this, how could she have been so stupid? Lily shut her eyes and groaned in frustration. She lifted her feet to rest on the edge of her dusty, antique desk and extended her legs, so that the front legs of her chair lifted upwards. This reminded Lily of going back to Hogwarts for a new school year. Without fail, when the excitement of a new year wore off and the workload kicked in, the student body would suffer a very rude shock, herself included. She never learned. It was only worse now; Lily was in the wizarding workforce, paying her own way into her apartment, food and clothes. She was such an idiot. She felt like kicking her desk in further frustration, if only she didn't fear that the old thing would retaliate.

It was then that something ticklish swept past Lily's ear, causing her to jolt and the last two floor-bound legs of the chair to tip towards the floor. The less than comfortable visitor's chair hit the wooden floorboards hard, and Lily flew backwards off it, skidding across the ground until the filing cabinet broke her fall. It was only a stupid mess of displaced files that saved her from cracking her skull on the metal, but Lily didn't consider this as she gingerly touched the lump forming on her head and swore loudly at the pain. Her eyes fell upon the perpetrator of her injuries; a tiny postal owl with a red package attached to its leg. Lily's death glare at her attacker softened in preoccupation with its gifts. Who on earth sent her a special delivery owl? Her injuries were forgotten as she approached the little owl, focused solely on the cylindrical, scarlet package. As Lily released the ribbon, the owl flew off again, either disinterested or just ignorant of the pain it had just caused. Lily was too stunned to call it back and send a reply.

_Thought you might be interested; it hits newsstands tomorrow. – Bianca_

_WEDDING DRAMA! ALISON BAXTER'S DARKEST SECRETS: _Rumours! _Bianca Nolles reports._

_It was only three weeks ago that the wizarding world's favourite couple Alison Stern and Philippe Baxter tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony in the Queen's Gardens, but it appears that drama has already struck the happy couple, who are currently celebrating their honeymoon in Spain. Sources report that "good girl" Alison Baxter nee Stern has been hiding some Dark secrets from her past regarding ex-boyfriend, James Potter (Puddlemere United Captain and Chaser). Whilst dating two years ago, Potter and Stern were named _Witch Weekly's _Best Couple of the Year Award and were widely regarded as the next celebrity couple to tie to knot, until up-and-coming publicist Lily Evans took a liking to the famous Chaser. Within four weeks, the couple split and moved on. However, new confessions from a close friend of both parties has brought new evidence on the couple's split to light. What the wizarding world believed of Lily Evans may have been completely incorrect, she may have – in fact – been the victim of the breakup!_

"_[James] really loved [Alison]." The source stated matter-of-factly when journalist Bianca Nolles met with them. Until now, it was common belief that the fabulous couple split due to Potter's infidelity. A man who "really loved" a woman would surely not have done such a thing! Has the wizarding world jumped to conclusions a little too quickly? Has the public been pitted against the wrong party? "James would never have done that. He's harmless, but Alison was his publicist and she changed the whole perception by hiding skeletons in his closet. [Alison] has a few skeletons too."_

_This is true. It seems that Alison Stern has gone to great lengths to season over her less-than-savoury past. _Rumours! _has uncovered exclusive evidence of Stern's past criminal activities. Stern, like Potter's new girlfriend Lily Evans, has been convicted of inappropriate use of magic in front of a Muggle, specifically her young Muggle sister Gemma Stern. And as a woman who was publicly distained by the outcome of Evans' trial in December last year, this brings to question Stern's own morality. Have the causes of the star-studded breakup all been a lie? Is Alison Stern the one to blame for this?_

"_[They] were mates, [James], Philippe [Baxter] and Sirius [Black, beater for Puddlemere United]. And Alison cheated on [James] with [his] best mate." The source reports, "[They] broke up after [Alison] told [James] she had cheated on [him] with Baxter. [He] didn't realise it was serious until the charity match." Stern was spotted with Baxter as early as June last year at one of the many events on the Quidditch calendar. Could these be indications of how long the heartache Potter suffered lasted? It is clear that it was not only Potter who suffered from Stern's infidelity either. Photographs of Stern's engagement ring first surfaced from the 158__th__ Annual Puddlemere v. Montrose Christmas Charity Match (which Stern and Evans both attended), the results of which ended with a embarrassing Puddlemere loss of 340-350 due to a bad shot on Potter's behalf. This terrible result may be been caused by not bad luck or inadequate skill, but the metaphoric slap in the face of seeing one's previous love engaged-to-be-married to a previous, quote, "best mate"?_

Rumours! _can report that is the first time that Potter and Evans' side of the story has been revealed, as they have kept relatively quiet since the original split, terribly hurt from the public backlash they have faced of recent times. With this exclusive report, much more on the matter is sure to come to light soon. Lily Evans and James Potter have borne the brunt of the cruelty sparked by the breakdown of a previous relationship, even earning _Witch Weekly's _Worst Couple of the Year Award. Has the media been too rash with their conclusions? _

_One thing is for sure, Alison Stern has many secrets to yet uncover._

Was this a good thing, Lily couldn't tell. One thing was for sure, this article was...different...from every other that the magical press had thrown at them so far. _Different, _being the only word that Lily could fathom, yet it didn't feel wholly correct. What was Bianca Nolles, of all people, doing writing this article? Before now, she had never shown any interest in actually _supporting _Lily and James' relationship, the interrogation at the charity match was enough evidence of that! Had she, meaning the media, finally seen reason, or was this just an attempt to put _Rumours! _back on top for readership? That being, did Bianca Nolles now expect Lily to owe her one for this article? If there was one thing that Lily didn't need, it was a cocky self-absorbed journalist thinking that she had a one-up over every other cocky, self-absorbed journalist when it came to herself and James' press coverage. But this was unimportant in comparison to the more pressing issues at hand; the content of the article itself.

"You really loved her." Lily had said this to James only three weeks ago, at Alison's wedding. The event was insignificant, but the words however still stung. It had become clear that this game that she and James played with Alison was far more personal than Lily had been led to believe in the past months. Using Lily as a sacrificial lamb for her own promotion was cruel, but doing so only _after _she cheated on her boyfriend with his best friend was torturous. These words had made it clear to Lily that James was just as thirsty for Alison's blood as she was...so what in Merlin's name was Bianca doing publishing this in the gossipy tabloids? _"[James] really loved [Alison]." _Ah, but of course. The public was disinterested in Lily's match with Alison, they really didn't care for the subtle blood-drawing contest that was happening right under their noses. They wanted to see the outcome of a love story, not an action novel. And, as Lily noted upon re-reading the article, their overheard conversation had played out perfectly for this angle.

It occurred to Lily that she should have been outraged at the notion that someone – a journalist, of all people – had overheard such a private, intimate conversation. It was, of course, an invasion of privacy, an invasion of her most basic rights! But Lily felt no such flame igniting inside her, only calm acceptance. Perhaps a month ago she would have done just this. Perhaps she would have stormed off to the _Rumours! _headquarters down the road in Diagon Alley and sought out Bianca for a firm reprimanding. Perhaps she would have organised a press conference to drop further details to keep the media talking, or gone out to a "private" dinner with James to discuss it in more depth. Lily had no incentive to do any of these things. A month ago, yes, she would have done this. Now, she saw no need. It may have come from two hundred days of constant paranoia of being overheard or photographed at the wrong angle, or this so-called cutthroat war game with Alison, but Lily had not one intention of following through with this article. She was a celebrity now, whether she liked it or not. Her friendship...relationship with James had changed her life; no privacy, no secrets, no mysteries, as terrible as this sounded. This article was, at least, positive. It occurred at the best possible time and included the best possible information, regardless of where it was sourced from. It was a way out of this vale of depression and up into the lighter side of the public eye again. Lily would just roll with it.

And besides, she pondered, replacing the fallen chair onto four legs and returning to her former position, what was this about Alison having a criminal past...

A second owl swept through the door before Lily could even fully appreciate this thought. Fortunately, some sort of preparation allowed Lily to remain upright in her chair and not suffer a similar heart attack to the one moments before. Still, it was strange for her to receive two packages within such a short time period. This postal owl did not carry the same red-coloured package which marked it as special delivery, but a small roll of parchment with a blue ribbon. This one was a copy of a letter sent through the Muggle post. There were only two people who ever sent Lily these, and one of them hadn't used it in decades. Lily's brow creased as she undid the second ribbon. It was terribly rare for her family to use this method of contacting her, for her mother often chose to meet up over the hassle of magical/Muggle communications. Something as special as a personal letter didn't bode well at all.

_Lily,_

_Dad died last night. The funeral is on Sunday at 9am, if you can find some time in that hectic freaky schedule of yours to attend._

_Petunia._

* * *

**3:46 pm. Day Two Hundred and Fifteen with Lily. Current objective: semi final week.**

* * *

Despite the numerous Air-Freshening Charms performed by the stadium's cleaning staff, one could never fully erase the smell of sweat, blood and tears from the Puddlemere change rooms. Memoirs of years…_decades_…of Puddlemere's finest wins and most embarrassing losses were held in this room for future generations to experience, for the newest players to add to. It was customary for members to add to these smells in the same way it was to wear the Puddlemere robes during play. The change rooms were almost the heart of the team; they were where the team meetings always took place. James had always loved these meetings as both a Chaser and a Captain. Now, it was his turn to add to the memories of this room as his father had before him. Today's speech had to be one of the best he had ever done, because the next match was not only a semi final, but a grudge match.

Some Dark magic must have been at work when the League Board – now free of Alison's clutches since her marriage to Baxter – had drawn up the rounds of the semi finals. Of all eight teams who had made it – including the Harpies, who were practically family; and Falmouth, the equivalent to a half-brother – Puddlemere just _had _to be competing against those bloody Magpies. In three days, blood would most certainly be drawn.

Vengeance for the Montrose team was not unique to James. All thirteen of the Puddlemere team were still hurting from the humiliating Christmas match and the provocation during the announcement in the Hall of Fame two months previously. And so, in the final hours before the winner-take-all match on Sunday morning (which just didn't have the same catchy ring as "Saturday night" did), James was busily preparing for his pep talk of the century. He _had _to win this, _they _had to win this. It was not only for the team pride and League Cup, but for Lily's sake too.

James dumped his towel and mounted the bench in front of him, turning three-sixty degrees to survey the change room crowded with his rowdy teammates.

"Hey guys! I wanna say something!" Around James, the movements of the thirteen other young men slowed, and every single pair of eyes drifted his way. It would be a little nerve-wracking, the feeling of thirteen pairs of eyes targeted your way in such a tense environment that a pre-Montrose game would create, if James had not faced this and more before. The room's noise extinguished. James' voice was alone, and sounded a hell of a lot louder without the background interference.

"I know none of you guys are happy about the drawing of the semis. It was utter dragonshit, putting us against Montrose a second year in a row. Plus, we all have a few grudges that we'd like to set with 'em, and they would have been better set in the final." A few heads nodded in agreement to this, but most of the Puddlemere team remained motionless and soundless. It was a shared fantasy that Montrose would get what they deserved in a mortifying grand final defeat, poetically contrast to Puddlemere's Christmas charity match. But with the two teams pitted against each other in the first round of semi finals, this dream would not be realised. James drew a breath. "But I don't want you guys focusing on what _could have _been. I don't want Puddlemere stuck in some delusion during the game on Sunday. I want you to focus on what's happening _then and there._ I _want_ this victory, a victory that we _can_ achieve, a victory that we _deserve…_a victory that is _ours_!"

It was like he had finally caught their attention, or at least stolen it away from their private thoughts, as now every pair of eyes was not only locked on James, but his own gaze. It was a little ridiculous, a little alike to those silly Muggle "movies". James Potter, Captain of the victorious Puddlemere United team, standing shirtless atop a wooden bench, surrounded by the team colours of navy blue and gold. Lily would never let him live it down if she were here. But it seemed right. Smiles broke out onto the faces of those closest to James - Marvel and Black - and quickly spread through the room.

"We're not like Montrose, we don't need to play dirty and change the rules to gain the upper hand. We've alreadyproved ourselves to be versatile during the heats. We can and _will_ win!" A loud cheer rang from the centre of the crowd - the reserve Seeker La Paiza, the runt of the team at five feet seven – and rippled outwards. Several fists were pounded in the air, accompanied by roars of delight.

"YEAH JAMES!" bellowed Sirius, slapping him forcefully on the shoulder. A round of applause followed. James beamed, secretly proud of his pep talk, and leapt off the bench into his adoring crowd. Several hands copied Sirius' and slapped his back and shoulders appreciatively. Hollers and catcalls exploded into the small room, effectively deafening the captain who had gotten used to the quiet of the beginning of his speech. Someone – probably La Paiza – started chanting, and soon all James could hear was one word, roared by his favourite team.

"PUD-DLE-MERE! PUD-DLE-MERE! PUD-DLE-MERE!"

* * *

**4:15 pm. Day Two Hundred and Fifteen of official employment. Current mood: vacant.**

* * *

Her eyes glazed over her childhood home in a dream-like state, not quite comprehending that she was really there. It looked just the same as she remembered right down to the pretty flowerbed underneath the front window, the pink curtains of her old second-storey bedroom and the golden glow of the hall through the stained glass door. The latter triggered a wave of pain through Lily as the realisation dawned on her once more. Her father was dead.

Lily crept up the stairs to the entrance and rang the doorbell as softly as possible. It didn't seem right to make noise. Quickly, footsteps sounded from the opposite side and the door swung open to reveal her sister, who looked even more displeased than usual to see Lily.

"You're late." Lily was too hollow to retaliate to this snide comment. The first thing that Petunia said, even after her own father died, was a belittlement. And what for? It wasn't as though Petunia had expected her to come in the first place, judging from that letter. But Lily didn't feel like starting an argument. The last thing she wanted to do was fight with Petunia. Instead, she let it slide. Her eyes sought after someone else. Lily found her mother sitting in her favourite chair beside the fire, seemingly too tired or too weak to cry any more, staring aimlessly at the black grate. She looked so much older than she did the last time Lily saw her, when she wore a ridiculous Christmas hat and carried a tray of cookies, just like when Lily was a child. She hadn't noticed Lily enter the lounge, nor her approaching the fire.

"Mum?" She whispered, for it seemed rude to speak above this volume. Her mother drew a breath, as though waking from a deep sleep and turned Lily's way. It took a long moment for Katherine Evans to even recognise her youngest daughter standing before her.

"Lily." She tried valiantly to smile, but in her weakened state, her lips just refused to move. Her smile instantly turned into a sob, but no tear fell. Lily knew that she must have shed all her tears before she arrived at the house through Muggle means. In her own haste to get here, Lily hadn't shed one tear, powered by determination to support her mother. But, for some reason, she felt safe to let down this guard now that she had arrived. Lily leant down and wrapped her arms tight under her mother's, buried her face in the hair which they shared and started to cry.

"I'm sorry Mum." she whispered between whimpers, "I'm so, so sorry."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_I can't apologise enough for the wait for this chapter. It got a little hard to write recently._

_Thank you for the continued support._

_Until next time,_

_-xSymnia  
_


	20. New Discoveries

**CHAPTER NINETEEN: New Discoveries  
(or, The Week of the Horse and the Buffalo)**

* * *

**8:44 pm. Day Two Hundred and Fifteen of official employment. Current mood: unknown.**

* * *

Lily had stayed for dinner, not that one could really classify the take-away Chinese no one except Petunia's buffalo of a fiancé could bear to consume as 'dinner'. Her childhood home was quieter than ever; every light except for those in the kitchen and living rooms had been extinguished, neither sound nor light seemed appropriate at the time. Lily found herself checking the overhead light lamp above the kitchen table constantly in fear, as though it may cut out as suddenly as her father's heart attack had taken him away. Truthfully, Lily hadn't seen much of her father in the intervening years between her discovery of her magical abilities and the present. The new and exciting wizarding world had accepted and consumed her so quickly that she had almost disappeared from the face of the Muggle world since the completion of her education and her consequent moving out of the family home. Yet, despite all of this non-existence and separation, Jack Evans was still her father. Lily was his youngest daughter, and she was clinging desperately to the last few memories she had of him.

Petunia set down her knife and fork, the clatter of metal onto china deafening. Lily knew, without looking up from her empty plate or a single word being spoken, that Petunia had only eaten to impress her two-tonne fiancé called "Vernon Dursley". And perhaps so that the money she had spent on feeding this giant didn't seem to go to waste. Katherine Evans had long since retired back to her chair beside the fire. She had barely spoken today except to say that she wasn't hungry. The two daughters and near son-in-law remained at the kitchen table, avoiding eye contact and any sort of communication. Lily didn't know if it was because the fiancé knew of her magic abilities, he ignored her for Petunia's sake or he just didn't like her, but Vernon had not said anything, instead focusing his attention towards the greasy take-away almost obsessively. Lily was disgusted by this.

"I'll wash up." Petunia announced, making a grab for the plate in front of Lily that had gone clearly untouched. She said this self-importantly, as though there was no one else in the room suitable for the job. And normally, Lily would have let her done this - she had always despised washing up – but the obnoxious tone of Petunia's and the fact she used such a tone to show up Lily for the role of the "perfect daughter" led Lily to declare she too would wash up just as loudly and just as pompously. Petunia shot a death glare over her shoulder as the two cleared up around the fiancé and walked towards the sink. Petunia would be sure that Lily had offered to help just to annoy her, and she wouldn't be wrong. The plates rattled as Petunia set them on the bench and filled the sink, purposefully taking up the entire width of the sink with her bony arms so that Lily could not assist. She instead moved to take drying duty without being asked.

"Don't feel that you have to do anything for the funeral on Sunday. Vernon and I have taken care of that." In the silent house, the running tap was deafening, covering Petunia's snide remarks from her mother's sensitive ears. Lily's numbness and shock had weaned, and so she felt utterly infuriated. Who did she think she was? _Lily _was the publicist of the family. _Lily _was Jack's daughter as well. And now Lily was being denied helping to put her father to rest by a horse and a buffalo! She hissed her reply just as Petunia had done, under the cover of the running water.

"You and your fiancé? He's never met Dad!" Petunia shot her a look of distain as she handed over a glass.

"For your information, Lily, Vernon and Daddy got on _very well_. He was _very_ proud I was getting married to someone like Vernon. And Vernon has been nothing but helpful in arranging Daddy's funeral, which is more than I can say for you!" Petunia slammed the kitchen tap off, taking away both their cover and Lily's chance at replying unheard. But Lily was far too fired up by Petunia's cruelty not to retaliate.

"Dad hasn't even been dead a day!" Lily cried, abandoning her drying by dropping it onto the bench with enough force to crack the glass, "How _dare_ you keep me from him! Why? Because I'm not engaged to a buffalo like you? Because I actually have a decent job? Because I have mag-" Before Lily could even sound the rest of the word, Petunia's gaunt, soapy hand had covered her mouth and stopped her, her eyes blazing and horse-like face steaming. Her head snapped to the right to glance at Vernon, but he had already vacated the room.

"No. I will not have you and your _freak _lifestyle ruining Daddy's funeral. You may come Lily, but don't you dare bring any of your friends with you. And if you say that word even _once _in front of Vernon, I swear, I'll make you regret it." Now sure that Vernon was out of harm's way, Petunia removed her hand from Lily's mouth and returned dutifully to her washing up. But for Lily, this wasn't over. Aghast and outraged, she turned and left the bench, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as she did so, ridding of those disgusting detergent bubbles that Petunia had left there. This was _it_. Petunia had decided to make an already horrible day even worse by throwing down the gauntlet. No magic, _ha_! Petunia had never appreciated Lily's magic in her father's lifetime and she clearly had no intention of doing so in his death. Fine, Lily didn't care. But Petunia was going to pay for trying to keep Lily away from her own father's funeral.

"'_Don't bring any of my friends?'_" She repeated to herself incredulously, storming out of the kitchen with her trademark Evans hair flying out behind her, "Oh, you just wait, Petunia. Just wait."

* * *

**10:44 pm. Day Two Hundred and Fifteen of official employment. Current mood: incensed...well...**

* * *

With shock only gradually wearing off, Lily could only feel one other emotion during her journey home from Muggle London; rage. Petunia had some nerve, going about announcing Lily to hide herself away, as if she were suddenly ruler of the family now that Dad was gone. Lily hated her sister. She hated how Petunia couldn't accept her for who she was out of jealousy. She hated how she had gone off and gotten herself engaged and acted as though that were her sole purpose in life. She hated her job. She hated her fiancé. And most off all, she hated the fact that Petunia had been the first of them to hear the horrible, horrible news.

It was thinking this – at least, Lily was pretty sure that it was thinking this that caused it– that brought a whole new wave of tears as she entered the lobby of her building. She felt terrible; weak, moody and depressed, rotten for leaving her mother home alone tonight, and pulsing with anger at Petunia. Every second waiting for the lift spelled out to an hour, and by the time she had finally boarded the little metal box, Lily's sobs were echoing throughout the lobby. Why did Dad have to die? What did she do that angered the world so much as to take him from her? Was this punishment for joining the magical world? The lift came to a stop at her floor, but Lily didn't move. What...what if she dropped everything, returned home? Could that..._would_ that...bring him back to her? It would make Petunia happy, to see Lily give up her "freak" lifestyle, and it would nearly kill her...but if it resurrected him...it would be worth it...wouldn't it?

"Lily!" She heard a familiar voice, but it sounded very far away. Instantly, she felt arms wrap around her and her body press against another's. It took many long, confusing moments for her to recognise the person holding her. The part of the magical world that would kill her to leave. "Lily." The voice kept repeating her name, trying to grab her attention. She looked upwards and saw a handsome, worried, familiar face, but somehow didn't recognise it at all. More tears fell, _many _more tears. Slowly, as she felt herself being half-carried, half-dragged into her flat, her senses started to work again. Time began to speed up once more.

"Lily, what's wrong?" James looked more anxious than she had ever seen him before; not even before her Wizengamot trial or even that bloody charity match had she ever seen him like this. He was kneeling down beside the lounge which she was now lying on, face an inch from hers, worry on every feature of his face. She tried to speak but could only find herself sobbing. What was wrong with her? She had been capable of rational thought and coherent speech only some moments ago!

"D-Da-it...it-it's my father." She finally managed to speak, even if it was in between moans and sobs. James' eyebrows furrowed, and she wished – _pleaded_ – for herself to calm down, "He di-died...this morning. H-heart attack." Lily tried to sit up, but could only manage to lie on her side to face her boyfriend. He looked sympathetic, upset even, but it was clear that he couldn't relate. Lily was nowhere near calm, and her emotions were completely out of her control now. Of course, James Potter had never had a parent go off and die on him, she sneered internally. He was bloody perfect, wasn't he? Lily was irked. Why couldn't he just _try _to understand?

"I'm sorry." This was all he said. He seemed to be feigning sadness, but Lily knew he didn't really feel it – not about Dad dying, at least. Then he asked, "When's the funeral?"

"Sunday. 9 am. What, do _you_ want to come?" Her voice was sharp, cold and pointed, polarised from the sobbing wreck she had been seconds before. James looked taken aback by this mood swing too.

"Of..of course." he answered, but there was something in his tone that implied the opposite, "But..." And there it was. Lily sat up suddenly, outraged. The change in air pressure should have made her dizzy, but she didn't feel a thing. She felt only rage once more. Why would James mess with her emotions like that? When she was like _this? _Was he _really_ that much of a bastard? James _wants _to come, but what?

"But _what? _You don't want to spend a day off with a sobbing girlfriend and her bitch of a sister? You don't want to be around Muggles? Or maybe you just don't the bad omen of going to a funeral in case it ruins your _perfect _little family with _two _parents!" Sarcasm and disdain were dripping off every words out of her mouth and it obviously cut deep.

"No!" He insisted, yet he still kept his earlier tone, "It's just that...Sunday morning...the sem-" Before the word had left his mouth, something sparked inside of Lily; a memory. Something she had repressed and then totally forgotten about after the events of today. James Potter, Chaser, was giving up his girlfriend for _Quidditch._

"Oh, so a Quidditch match is more important to you then, is it?" The realisation caused tears to threaten to fall once more. She felt betrayed; betrayed by her father, betrayed by someone who was meant to be family and now betrayed by the person she had wrongly thought to understand everything. Lily should never have dated an only child from a happy home. She couldn't believe it. She didn't want to believe it. Lily had really thought that James was different from what the media made him out to be, what she had thought from her first impression. Why did she let herself fall for a guy like that?

"No!" James kept doing this to her; treating her like a media idiot by denying everything. "But I'm captain and it's the semis...against Montrose."

"It's fine. I get it. You wanna sort out your grudge with Baxter instead of being with me. Go. I don't care. I can deal without _you._" The words were out of her mouth before she even considered them, and suddenly she found herself standing, towering over the man who always stood six inches taller than her. James looked shocked, and a little angry. What was _he _angry about? Lily was the one who should be angry, _she _was the one who just lost his father.

"Lily, why don't we talk about this later? I'm sorry about your father, but-"

"GET OUT!" She screamed, pointing toward the door. Tears fell. Her hair flew everywhere. Her voice broke. James picked himself up from the floor and left without another word. She followed him, only one step behind, so that she felt the satisfaction of slamming the door behind him. It was then – and only then – that she allowed herself to lean against the door and slide down to the floor, curl up in the foetal position and just cry.

* * *

**9:51 pm. Day Two Hundred and Sixteen with Evans. Current objective: keeping Sirius off the Firewhiskey.**

* * *

If Coach ever discovered that the captain of his Puddlemere United team had violated the unwritten code to which all Puddlemere players abided by inviting Sirius Black out to a pub two nights before a semi-final match, the said captain would probably be stripped of his position faster than he could say "Quidditch". So James had been especially careful in how he had extended his invitation to Sirius, sure not to imply in any way that they may actually _drink_ alcohol that night. But his mind wasn't so much on the consequences of their guys' night out; there were more pressing issues at hand.

Sirius slammed the small glass of butterbeer he held onto the counter, grimacing at the horrid taste. Anything less than hard alcohol was displeasing in his fine opinion, and this was, _in no way, _hard alcohol. The lack of decent alcohol only made James' invitation even more confusing. He had honestly been surprised when James asked him to a pub (of all places) that afternoon, so close to the semi-final. The upcoming match was a grudge match, against _Baxter_. Given his previous (all well-known) record with alcohol and Quidditch games, one would have thought that a pub would be the last place that James Potter, Chaser, Captain and Best Mate would bring him to. But it was clear that James didn't want to drink at all tonight. In fact, it seemed like he had just needed a reason to get out and have someone to talk to.

Internally, Sirius groaned. He knew what an outing like this meant for him. He had never been one to share feelings, and James knew this. Sirius enjoyed his status as a lady-killer. His friends enjoyed his status as a lady-killer. The press enjoyed his status as a lady-killer. And under any sort of normal circumstances, Sirius would not be the one to talk to if James were having problems with Lily. But James...he was his best mate, and so even if he _had_ been whipped by a girl like Lily, Sirius would - grudgingly - be there for him. Mates would give up both a decent night out and half-decent alcohol for their mates. But James now owedhim.

"So what's the problem?" Sirius asked, unsure if he had actually intended his tone to be as irritable as it sounded. James sat beside him at the counter at the bar, nursing some Merlin-awful beverage called 'soft drink'. He didn't reply. Sirius persisted; he couldn't have his mate moping about like this during the match, Sunday. Puddlemere needed all of its players in top form, especially their captain. "Have you two broken up?"

The thought of this must have been incredibly scandalous for it to snap James out of his musings so quickly. His attention switched from his glass to Sirius, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and one of confession. "No!" He replied, the soft drink twirled in his hands. "I mean...well, I dunno really." He paused and sipped his drink. "We argued...well, she yelled...and...kinda threw me out." James looked utterly pathetic to Sirius, now turning back to his glass as though it were the most beautiful thing on the planet. Here he was, the Captain of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team, the _defending _team of the League Cup, and he was sulking over a little tiff with his girlfriend at a _bar. _With a _soft drink_. Sirius only just resisted the urge to roll his eyes. What had Lily Evans done to his old James?

"I don't know if I _want _to know." Sirius commented, scooping up the newly-refilled glass of butterbeer. James ran a hand through his hair, seemingly at war with himself. "But I doubt I can help with a lovers' quarrel." he added, eyeing his friend over the rim of his drink; the one who was too busy pitying himself to notice the hot, busty barmaid giving him the eye.

"It's what we argued over...that I need your help with." James admitted after a few moments of tense silence. He sighed as he tried to explain, "She was upset and I just...didn't know what to say...or do...and I...I just...I screwed it up." He felt the gaze of his friend intensify, asking without words. "It's her dad. He died yesterday morning. And I think Lily wants...I mean, I think I should...look, the funeral's on Sunday. Sunday morning...at nine o'clock." At first, there was silence from Sirius. Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps it was that he refused to believe it. Or he didn't understand the significance of the time and date. But his next reaction was predictable, and it wasn't any less striking. Sirius was furious.

"You _can't _go!" He all but cried. Again, predictable, but no less upsetting. James cast his eyes downward, trying to avoid the glare that Sirius was shooting him. He felt the same guilt that he felt only last night at Lily's. "It's the semi-final, James! Have you forgotten that? A semi-final match against_ Montrose!"_ He said nothing in reply, for everything that Sirius said rang true, and it sent another guilty _pang _through James. He gazed at his empty glass even harder now, as though it could protect him from the truth. "You can't just _leave_ the team without a Captain! What about that great speech that you did yesterday? Did that mean _nothing _at all?"

It was frightening how true his words were, and that made them all the more hurtful. James was the captain of Puddlemere United. A captain didn't..._couldn't _abandon his ship. Not after he had declared its inevitable sail only a day before. James didn't even want consider what his teammates would think of him if he didn't attend. What would they say to a captain that betrayed them? Would they ever respect him again? What would Coach do to him? Kick him out? What would the press, the fans, do? It only seemed to spell darkness in James' career future. No matter how hard he tried, this would never be all about him. And it was easier having someone else to rely on, knowing that whatever choice he made, she could turn it into something great. But even that protection was gone this time.

Part of James wanted to smile, to laugh and tell Sirius that he was kidding. But then, that same part of James drifted to Lily. Lily...she had just lost her father. He couldn't even imagine how that must have felt, for him to be there one moment and then gone the next. And from what he had heard, she couldn't rely on her sister for any comfort, in fact it must have been close to the opposite. And who knew if she could rely on _anyone _at the funeral, if it were Petunia organising it? Wasn't it therefore his duty to be there for her?

James turned his focus back to Sirius, who seemed to be waiting for some sort of relief in his answer. James wished he could give him that. He swallowed awkwardly, phrasing his next words together in his head as best as he could. He didn't know how to say it, exactly. For what frightened...what worried him the most was not the fact that he was considering missing this match...but that he'd known his decision the instant he'd been asked to choose,

"If I've taught the team _anything_, it's that we can beat Montrose with even half of us." His measured tone surprised even himself, as though he had rehearsed these words, "I want to personally take out Baxter with a Bludger to the head more than anything else right now, you know that. But it can wait. We have next season, and the season after that, and after that."

"But-" Sirius protested, but James cut him off, "We've trained enough. We can win in our _sleep_, I stand by what I said before, Montrose stands no chance against us." But Sirius was not convinced. He took a long swing of his butterbeer, as though preparing for a lecture.

"Look, I know you think she's brilliant and everything James, but this is a _semi-final_! Your-_our_ careers are on the line! Don't you even care about that anymore?" James shook his head, and for some strange reason, his lips twitched upwards. Sirius' expression was stuck somewhere between aghast and disbelief. Of all the things that could have possible gone wrong tonight - a knocked up girlfriend, a bad paparazzi shot – of course he hadn't expected the great James Potter, second generation Puddlemerer, to be ditching their most important match of the year. But Sirius sighting James actually _smiling _about this disaster seemed to set the whole thing in stone.

"You _really _think this is love, James? You think Lily's different to all the others? We _can't _sustain another Alison crisis again! You _know _what that did to us, James! Just think of the team for once and notyour dick! I mean, how do you know that Lily isn't _just _another Alison?" It was at this that James truly smiled. It was like in those Muggle movies, a scene dedicated to the hero performing the award-winning line,

"Because I wouldn't even have _dreamt_ about missing a match for Alison."

* * *

**9:00 am. Day Two Hundred and Eighteen of official employment. Current mood: horribly depressed.**

* * *

In true Petunia fashion, the funeral was to be held in church, led by a traditional vicar and attended by close family only. Jack Evans had been an only child, and any relatives of his were either too far or too old to journey to London on a Sunday morning for a one-hour ceremony. Upon entering the church, Lily couldn't help but feel horribly depressed. To know that her father – a friendly, outgoing, if a little outrageous man - would be laid to rest by a number of people he could count on one hand, was humbling to say the least. She wished that more people could have come, she wished that the funeral may not be such a formal, saddening occasion. She wished that she could have done _something_.

Lily no longer felt angry about the service, nor the fact that she didn't organise such a troublesome celebration. Walking into the church that she had not visited in decades brought the same vacant demeanour her mother had adopted before her; no words, no emotions, no tears. Part of her wondered if holding the service in a church had been another swipe from Petunia, but it didn't bother her. Part of her wondered what Petunia thought seeing Lily enter alongside a stranger, but the same fire that had consumed her when she had originally intended to bring James had since extinguished. James' attendance meant a whole new thing to her now. Being able to hold onto someone, someone who had seemed to defeat all the odds stacked against him to come today, made this ceremony a little easier. She was incredibly embarrassed about the way she had acted that night toward James, who had been only trying to help. She had never thanked him properly for being with her today, having been rather shocked by the sight of him in a Muggle suit on her doorstep this morning. She wondered if he knew just how grateful she was for him to be here with her, if he knew how bad she felt for forcing him out of the match he so desperately wanted to compete in. However, the way he hugged her closer to him – protectively, almost - when he caught sight the look of utter loathing cast across the room from Petunia, told Lily that he did, in fact, know.

Katherine and the aging Pastor Robert were more hospitable than Petunia was, and drifted over quickly, both wearing the same sad smile.

"It's been a long time Lily." Robert greeted, only a faint trace of disapproval in his voice. Lily nodded, unsure of how to respond to this. A long time it had been; more than five years since she had stepped foot into a church. He continued nonetheless with the standard, "I'm very sorry for your loss." Lily saw his eyes fall to James, who clearly felt somewhat out of place here.

"This is James." she introduced, her voice much softer than intended and barely able to look either Robert or her mother in the eye. She kept their exact relationship to herself, not wholly sure how to explain herself to a vicar. But what could have been a tense, awkward moment was waved away by none other than the man beside her, who appeared totally calm and controlled as he extended a hand towards her mother with the same solemnity, "I'm terribly sorry for your loss." Lily had to force the puzzlement off of her face; James seemed to know much more about Muggle funerals than she had expected (perhaps they taught proper Muggle funeral etiquette as part of Muggle Studies?) Her mother seemed suitably impressed by this as well, grasping his hand and thanking him for attending. By now, Petunia and Vernon – the former appearing as irritated as ever – had approached. It seemed that they too needed to study the newcomer.

"Vernon Dursley." The buffalo announced himself as, offering his beefy hand toward James. He must have been impressed by the formality and sharpness of James' attire and decided he liked him, judging from the smile that Lily had never seen cross his face before (except perhaps when a large plate of meat was sitting in front of him). Petunia looked like she had swallowed a lemon seeing this, which brought a grin to Lily's lips. James accepted Vernon's offer, providing the tough handshake that he so obviously desired in a friend, only making the situation even stranger to the two sisters.

"James Potter." He said, using that same charming smile that won him several _Witch Weekly _awards.

* * *

The service technically went relatively quickly - the cremation would occur later - but the hours still dragged on. What initially seemed like a positive beginning to an unusual friendship quickly transformed into a relationship closer to that of the sisters the parties were associated with. Despite the first impressions, it hadn't taken long for Vernon Dursley, Buffalo, to sense something rather odd about this friend of his fiancée's estranged sister. And despite Petunia's many attempts, the fate of this day could not be altered.

James and Vernon Dursley had been left alone in Katherine Evans' sitting room, silent and staring down one another, as Lily and Petunia made coffee for the party with their mother. The house was silent except for the rustles of Katherine reaching for the coffee plunger in the walk-in pantry and the heavy breathing of Petunia's giant of a fiancé. Naturally, Petunia had chosen the first moment when she was out of both her fiancé's and mother's earshot to start the argument that Lily had been expecting since James had first arrived at her flat that morning. Lily found herself struggling away from the surprisingly tight grip of her sister, jammed in the kitchen doorway.

"I distinctly told you not to bring _anyone._" Petunia hissed, tightening her grip in order to stop Lily from avoiding the dispute. Lily pulled her arm away, once more fuming at her sister's attitudes. Clearly, after years of separation, Petunia had long forgotten the fact that Lily would never have done _anything_ that she said. Threatening her not to bring a guest had been an invitation. Or perhaps, just perhaps, she had actually been _hoping _that Lily would bring someone just to have another go at her. But that seemed more like a thing Alison Baxter would plan, not Lily's useless, bitchy older sister. At least, she hoped this was the case.

"Ha! Did you honestly think I would oblige, Petunia? I never have. What would change that?" Her tone was equally nasty as Petunia's, and part of her loathed the fact she was cowering to her sister's level. But whenever Petunia was involved, any situation or action that Lily would normally avoid like the plague seemed like a good idea. This response, predictably, annoyed Petunia.

"How _dare _you bring a freak like him to Daddy's funeral! After I specifically told you not to!" She cried, now both arms straight by her sides and hands balled into fists. Lily scoffed in disbelief of Petunia's actions, however anticipated they had been.

"He's not a freak! _I'm_ not a freak! I don't care what you say, Petunia, I'm not hiding who I am just because you're jealous!" Petunia's horse-like face reddened.

"I'm. Not. Jealous." She snapped, causing Lily only to laugh. Their voices were gradually increasing in volume, drawing the attention of both the woman in the pantry and the men in the sitting room. But this went unnoticed in the mutual rage, "How could I be jealous of _you?_"

"Oh, don't even bother to pretend, we both know the truth! You're just jealous because I'm a witch and you're not!"

"Don't you dare you that word in front of me!"

"STOP IT GIRLS! JUST STOP IT!" A voice, one many times louder than what the sisters' had since increased to, demanded the attention of the two rooms. The house fell silent for a second time. Katherine Evans looked uncharacteristically outraged; red cheeks, hair blazing, and holding the coffee plunger in one hand and the other attached to her hip. But, nonetheless, Lily continued; if they were going to sort this out, now was just as good a time as any.

"I'll say whatever I like, thank you very much! I'm not hiding because of you! Why don't I just tell the world about my magical powers? Why don't I just start with your fiancé? Perhaps _he _may accept me, unlike you! Maybe _he _is a little less narrow-minded!"

But the answer to this came a lot faster than Lily had expected,

"MAGIC? WITCHERY? WHAT'S THIS BUSINESS ABOUT MAGIC?" Lily turned to gaze at the source of the noise, but Petunia had already rushed to its side, pleading her case. Vernon Dursley looked as though he was about to explode. His face turning purple. His moustache ruffled. His belly was expanding. And then Petunia was shrieking, trying to get his attention, begging him to calm down and listen to her. But Vernon Dursley's eyes were locked on Lily's, as though he was attempting to stare the magic out of her. It was then that Lily understood just why he was engaged to her sister. Vernon Dursley was no different from Petunia, he hated magic just as must as she did. The thought of this sparked something inside of Lily. She couldn't help but rub this in a little more,

"That's right, Vernon Dursley," she tormented, savouring her moment and choosing to ignore the pained shrieks of her sister and the glares from her mother, "your sister-in-law-to-be is a witch." She grinned a little too happily at the end of this, and this sent Petunia hurling off the edge. She shrieked once more, and it quickly turned into a sob. And, embarrassed by this, she turned on her heel and raced out of the house, repeating something in between dry sobs that sounded along the lines of, "how dare you?" Vernon Dursley followed her out, not crying but all but exploding with outrage.

The slam of the front door snapped Lily back to her new reality; a sister that was never going to invite her to her wedding, a boyfriend who was trying not to smirk at this family crisis, a mother on the verge of tears and a very deep feeling of shame and regret. Perhaps she had overdone it.

* * *

**1:35 pm. Day Two Hundred and Eighteen of official employment. Current mood: neutral.**

* * *

Katherine brought the plates from lunch to the sink, her lips set in an unreadable expression. Lily felt a little awkward, for her mother had said very little over lunch, or at all really, since Petunia stormed out. The dull ache of guilt intermixed with loss still remained. She took the plates her mother handed her without question; for in some strange way she actually _wanted_ to do the dishes, a way to apologise for what had happened earlier. They worked together in silence, but Lily could tell that all was not comfortable. The catastrophe of just two hours previous was still raw in both the minds of mother and daughter.

"James seems like a very nice young man." Katherine broke the silence first, and surprisingly, her tone was devoid of anger. Often one would wonder if this were the start of a motherly lecture, a strong indication that the boy was not right, but her mother never lectured.

"Perfection, that's what he'd call himself." Lily replied, laughing softly. Her mind wandered to her first meeting with James; finding him in her chair at the office and absolutely hating him for it. Then finding him in her Parisian hotel room with a letter from the Ministry. Then, just how handsome he looked at Alison's wedding. Who would have known that the boy who stole her chocolates and allegedly slept with hundreds of women would be the man she fell in love with?

"And what would you call him?" She questioned, pausing in her wiping up and leaning against the counter to face her daughter. At first, Lily was startled by the continued lack of anger in her mother's voice, and then even more confused by something that resembled a smile on her face. Lily considered this question for some time, also stopping her washing up and pushing back the flyaway locks of hair behind her ear. She turned to lock eyes with her mother, only to see the look of longing she wore. Of course, she had her father's eyes, the ones that she had heard so often her mother fell in love with. Lily realised just how hard gossiping over James like this must have been for Katherine, how every bit of Lily's adoration must have sent a blunt blow of agony through her, a somewhat horrid reminder of the manner in which she acted the first time she met Jack. She again felt horrible for doing this, but it seemed that discussing this over what had happened before was ideal.

"If I believed in Divination...perhaps my soul mate." Lily felt like a teenager, but the grin broadened on her mother's face. She looked so much younger than the woman with a vacant expression two nights ago. Lily turned her eyes away presently, almost embarrassed, and had returned to her washing up when another voice came from the kitchen door. Internally, she thanked her mother for her strength. Only Katherine Evans could have walked away from that morning and find no tears and no anger.

"I wouldn't say Divination is all wrong..." James announced, wearing that cocky grin that made Lily wonder just how much he had heard. He held in his hand a small slip of paper and held it up for everyone to see the magical moving text, "the Quidditch forecasters did get it right, after all. But it _was_ an obvious Puddlemere win." A year ago, or even a day ago, Lily wouldn't have cared less about this silly Quidditch match. But James had ditched this match, one that he had wanted to compete in so, _so_ badly, for _her_. And in her mindless grief, she had forgotten just how much his life revolved around the sport; it must have broken his heart – his _team's _heart – not to attend. It was this thought that brought the ear-to-ear grin onto her lips. She ignored her washing up and instead leant over the kitchen counter to hug James, soap suds sticking to the back of his dress shirt. She felt a pair of eyes watching over them carefully.

"Quidditch match?" Katherine queried after a few moments, her eyebrow raised. As a child – well, a student at Hogwarts - Lily had had extended conversations with her parents about every aspect of the magical world, something that Petunia had never wished to participate in, of course. Charm classes, potions, houses and Diagon Alley frequented their conversations, but it had always been this magical sport that intrigued Mr. Evans so. Lily was honestly surprised by her mother's memory of the game, or her courage to bring up such a topic close to her husband's heart.

"James is captain of the Puddlemere team." She found herself saying, "They had a match today." At this, with his hands still on Lily's shoulders, James put on his most charming smile for the older Evans. Lily stomach quickly dropped; would she even appreciate James career? James was her first serious boyfriend since Hogwarts...what would she think of her dating even a _Muggle_ athlete?

"You had a match today?" She asked again, not bothering to hide her disbelief. Lily wondered if she could possibly be blaming James for the morning's argument; who knew what grief could do to her fragile state? James clearly didn't know how to react to this. Perhaps the Muggle Studies class only covered funerals, not meet the parents. Was she angry that he came to such an important ceremony today, with his mind surely on something completely different, he probably asked himself. Or was she in fact a sports supporter, who would shun any man – magical or Muggle – for missing a game? Lily tensed, now considering the same and worse. After the moment started becoming awkward, James answered,

"Just a semi-final, nothing important." Lily tried to hide the shock registering on her face hearing this. How...how could James say such a thing? Sure, he was in front of her mother and trying to make a good impression, but some romantic part of Lily told her that he was actually being _sincere_. Her mother's facial expression did not change, and Lily feared a storm was brewing. Her father had loved sports. He would probably be aghast to hear that the captain of his team wasn't attending a match for "personal reasons". But she had never known if her mother had shared this love/obsession. Katherine Evans' lips twitched into a smile.

"You know, not many men would do that, James. A semi-final match, no less...I can see why Lily likes you." A huge weight felt like it was being lifted off Lily' shoulders and it took a moment for her to realise that this was indeed so; James had been leaning on Lily for support this whole time without her notice. Perhaps he had been anxiously awaiting her reply too.

"Well, I _had_ to come and see where Lily got her beauty from." he replied, now turning up the charm he so often used on the press. Lily could tell that her mother wasn't buying into this, but the atmosphere of the kitchen had lightened so much that she laughed at his attempt nonetheless. Lily moved to undo her apron, suddenly aware that James should be somewhere else, somewhere almost another world away,

"If they've just won the semis, Mum, there's probably a..." she started, phrasing her words to bid farewell as politely and as fast as she could, but her mother merely waved and mouthed "go". Affection for her soared inside of Lily and she all but ran across the kitchen – the site of both a fight with Petunia and her making up with Mum - to wrap her arms around her, bringing her into a tight hug. Katherine returned the hug and kissed her hair sweetly, something that sent Lily's mind reeling back to when she was eleven year old, having just received her Hogwarts letter. From the corner of her eye, she caught James grinning at this sight.

* * *

He popped the question that Lily had been both expecting and dreading when they reached the deserted intersection nearest her parents' home. Up until now, they had walked in a comfortable silence - James' arm wrapped over her shoulders and Lily's body pulled tight against his own – seemingly enjoying taking in every little bit about this Muggle residential street. Had James just been sent back in time to a Muggle Studies class, she mused, analysing his thoughtful expression. He only slightly startled her when he spoke abruptly,

"'_Soul mate'_, eh?" His head cocked downwards and he locked eyes with Lily, trapping her gaze from where it had been studying every inch of his face. Lily smiled awkwardly, embarrassed on many accounts; this particular topic being brought up, the fact he had caught her staring at him and that he had evidently overheard her conversation. So she laughed in reply,

"Well it would be true...if I possessed the Inner Eye." For a reason unknown to Lily, she couldn't feel comfortable admitting that James was her soul mate. Perhaps it was because of everything they had been through together...or what she feared the press said. Perhaps it was what she feared the future going to bring them. Perhaps it was because she had never known celebrity relationships – magical or Muggle – to last forever, like she wanted her relationship with James to. Moreover, she was famous now _because _of her relationship with James...what would happen if, Merlin forbid, something went wrong? Lily was in love with James Potter, Chaser. It was undeniable. But naming him as her soul mate, even in private, she feared what those cursed words would bring. And so say this under a swipe at the subject of Divination seemed easier than the alternative.

James chuckled at this, and she felt at ease once more, but couldn't keep her mind off what he thought of the subject; did he feel the same? They crossed the street in unison, falling back into their shared step and comfortable silence, but James stopped upon reaching the opposite footpath. He again had that look of deep thought, one that Lily loved on him. Then he said the words that she hadn't realised she wanted to hear until they were said, "I love you."

Lily felt her eyebrows raise hearing this, as though she were surprised by this declaration. But she didn't feel surprised, not in the slightest. She found her next words to be the easiest she had ever said,

"I love you too."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Firstly, thank you all for your continuous support over this really long break. I'm really, terribly sorry for the wait for this chapter. It was really unacceptable._

_Hopefully, I can try to redeem myself._

_So, until next time,_

_-xSymnia_


	21. Damage

**CHAPTER TWENTY: Damage Control**

* * *

**9:45 am. Day Two Hundred and Sixty-Six of official employment. Current mood: in a state of self-reproach.**

* * *

It had been a long, long time since Lily had done this.

The Monday morning sunlight streamed through her office's plate-glass windows in rays of yellow spreading across her desk, picking up every speck of dust and hint of a double-strength skim mocha cappuccino stain on the aged timber. Lily sat low in her executive chair, hidden from sight behind two giant piles of tabloids. This whole concept of nine-to-five office work felt very odd to her. She had almost forgotten what a normal job consisted of; in fact, she quickly found her attention span shorter and her mind wandering. How on earth did Muggles _survive_ bland office jobs like this? How did _anyone_ manage a job that didn't involve the daily pick through gossip columns? How did _she _handle being a publicist before all the drama kept her out of the office? She shook her head and flipped open the latest issue of _An Era _to spy the headline that had captured her interest; _Two Seasons Too Long; Puddlemere United in Line for a New Captain._

This was herfault. There was no denying that. It was she who had manipulated James into attending her father's funeral, missing the biggest Quidditch match of the season in the process. In her grief, or perhaps selfishness, she hadn't considered the ramifications of such a simple act, a serious fault on her publicist part. And these ramifications did not come – thankfully – in the form of unemployment. Instead they came in the form of articles about Puddlemere. Specifically, the team's need for a new leader.

A metallic _twang _echoed as James threw his copy of _Quidditch Today_ into the bin. Lily caught a grimace flash on his face. James had taken this hideous media frenzy over his captainship surprisingly well, although she did suspect that it hurt him more than he let on. Lily circled the headline and placed it carefully atop the rightmost pile – the slightly larger one – to read the accompanying insults later. The next week was completely damage control. James had a press conference tomorrow in the grand final lead-up, then an exclusive interview with _The Daily Prophet_ discussing his place in the Puddlemere team next season. Wednesday, an autograph signing session. Thursday, a meeting with Coach for Lily. Friday night however was the night she dreaded the most; damage control at a dinner with Maria and Patrick Potter. She had a feeling that would be the toughest one.

"I should have known the editor-in-chief was a Puddlemere fan." She said, trying to lighten the mood. James peered over the top of last week's _The Official Nimbus Magazine _to sight the tabloid she referred to. He chuckled.

"Nah, Walter probably just had money on me flogging Baxter with a Bludger." He said this with complete ease, which made Lily's lips turn to a smile. Only a Puddlemere fan! She tossed the newspaper she flicked through – which presented no new news – to the bin, where it bounced off the rim and onto the floor. James didn't bother to hide his amusement at her terrible aim, laughing in an almost patronising way. Lily ignored him, but allowed her smile to stay.

"I'm sorry James; I should have known that the media would tear you apart for missing the semis. It was basic Publicity 101." Her apology was really months overdue. James had suffered weeks of the worst torture the press could offer him; publishing every single one of those horrible photos of him partying, taken during Alison's time, one by one. Yet, to her amazement, he held no qualms about this. Interestingly, he seemed almost nostalgic about those days.

"It's no worse than it would have been if I had been there at a losing match." James replied, bored and blasé about the tabloids by now. He stood from his chair and rounded the antique desk toward Lily. She paused in her highlighting to watch him loom over her, braced by one hand on the seatback and one on the armrest. Her eyebrow raised as his hazel eyes locked onto hers, "You know..._sometimes..._there are more important things to me than just a one million seat Quidditch stadium packed with fans wanting to witness the greatest semi-final-slash-grudge match of the century. A damsel in distress...needing a knight in shining armour..." Lily didn't shift her gaze from him, utterly frozen, her arm still in midair grasping for another tabloid. James stopped also, and then leaned in, his lips so dangerously close. Lily closed her eyes, "But you can't tell _anyone_ that I said that."

Her eyes shot open once again to find him denying her her kiss, putting on a cocky smile and he grabbing the journal she had been stretching for. He swaggered back to his chair, very pleased with himself. Lily resisted the urge to hit him as he did so. Instead, she chose a less violent action and grabbed the next tabloid on the stack, which was slowly decreasing in size. It was not a tabloid as much as it were a form guide, for Quidditch fans to place their bets on local and worldwide games. Unsurprisingly, page three was dedicated to the British and Irish League Cup.

"Huh. It the grand final should be pretty exciting. 20-1 odds on a Harpie win." James evidently couldn't pick if Lily was serious or merely teasing him, sparking another grin to broaden on her face. But to keep up her mock seriousness, she kept her lips set firmly in a straight line and her eyes devoid of any hint for either way.

An astute knock on the office door caused Lily to jump and effectively ended her charade. She turned towards the source of the noise in her chair, perturbed. She never got visitors to the office.

"Yes?"It was rather old-fashioned, calling out to her guest like this, but whoever it was was unfazed by this and the heavy wooden door began to open. Both Lily and James, out of sheer habit, immediately sat up in their chairs, as to appear like they had been doing actual work. But their worries were not realised as they recognised the figure in the doorway.

"Oh. Alison." Lily greeted, her face falling. Alison Baxter appeared rather nostalgic as she took a single step into her former office, eyeing off every detail. No doubt, what had changed in her absence.

"Lily."A somewhat uncomfortable smile accompanied her acknowledgement, "James." An awkward silence followed. Too much had happened between those in the room for any other sort to occur. Lily studied the newcomer's expression, but found herself empty-handed. Alison showed no clear emotion, which meant only one thing. Alison was here for business.

"What do you want?" Normally, she would have attempted to be a little more hospitable, but Alison's visit seemed more like an invasion of privacy than a business meeting...or whatever it was.

"May I come in?" At this, Lily glanced at James for his opinion. When it came to Alison, the both of them were best to be involved. He shrugged, and Lily read his meaning. Alison surely could do very little damage – if any - alone, without a press team nearby. There was no reason to deny her. But it was grudgingly that Lily flicked her wand and removed the piles of magazines to the bureau across the room and the rubbish bin under the desk. She failed to conjure a chair for their guest. Either having expected this welcome or being unflustered by it, Alison teetered across the carpet in her eight-inch turquoise dragonshide heels to stand before the desk, clutching her similarly coloured briefcase. (Lily discreetly tucked her bare feet away.) Closer up, she looked almost...exhausted.

"I won't waste time on small talk, Lily." She said, although it was clear from the way she stood, she was addressing the both of them; "I need a favour."

There was the sound of a stumble, the legs of a wooden chair as ancient as the desk Lily sat at scraping against the floor. James had slipped off his seat. Lily, too, could not hide her surprise, try as she might. Again, Alison must have forseen this, and was unfazed.

"A favour?" Lily repeated, still not believing her ears. Alison persisted, slowly selecting her prose.

"I really don't know how to ask you this. But I do assume you've heard." She nodded toward the bureau, causing Lily to follow her gaze and only seeing the piles of tabloids that she had yet to properly read. Had she missed something? Alison continued, answering her own question,"I guess not, then." Her lips pursed, clearly considering her next words with extreme care, "I'm in some legal trouble. It's regarding a Disapparation during my wedding reception. In front of a Muggle."

Once more, Lily instinctively looked to James for further information, but he shared the same puzzled expression as she. She deliberated over Alison's predicament. This "legal trouble" sounded far too familiar. Lily felt- she _knew _– that she had heard of this before. But, where? And then it clicked. Bianca Nolles' article, the exclusive scoop about Alison's wedding. Part of Lily wanted to take offence to this, that Alison had come to Lily of all people about legal trouble, but her mind implored her to play nicely.

"If you want me to suggest legal representation, I-" Alison cut across her,

"No. I've already got someone." Alison met James' eyes, clearly a mutual understanding of this 'someone', "Remus is actually why I'm here. As part of my defence, I need to prove that the Muggle in question – my sister – was not affected by the Diapparation." Her gaze moved from James to Lily, an obviously significant movement, but Lily did not comprehend the significance of her words. This must have shown."I need someone to speak at my hearing, to state that Gemma was too distracted by their conversation to notice a Disapparation." Another long pause followed.

"And you want _me _to?" Lily questioned.

"The both of you; two witness statements are always better than one. Your track record isn't brilliant, Lily, but the Wizengamot requires a statement and-"

"You need James and I to _lie _to the Wizengamot, risking our necks in doing so, to help you avoid Azkaban?" she finished, her tone dubious. Now, the rare visitor too was surprised, but unlike Lily, she regained control quickly in both tone and demeanour.

"You won't be lying. You and James _were_ talking to Gemma during the reception. You and James _were_ at the reception for its entirety. Now, given the length of the reception, the number of people attending, the amount of noise and activity, neither of you _nor _Gemma noticed that Bianca Nolles... slipped out." She ended with her classic smile, which set Lily's teeth on edge, but not because of what she was saying. In the months between the charity match and the grand wedding, Lily had gradually played down the traits of her rival in her mind. She had, despite herself, forgotten the one trait that made Alison such a brilliant publicist, why she was so highly regarded. Manipulation. To use a Muggle expression, she had it down to a T. But two could play at this game. Lily cleared her throat.

"And if we couldn't...honour...this favour?" She was in her element, for this was now a standard discussion with Mrs. Alison Baxter. No one said what they really meant.

"You have to!" Alison's exclamation and sudden show of emotion surprised Lily, although she readily composed herself,"I mean...you're my best hope. Please. Lily, James, I am begging you. They're going to erase her memory. Gemma will have no memory of my wedding." Now that Lily could read her hand, Alison Baxter really _was _exhausted, she really _was _desperate. Lily knew – _anyone _knew – that Alison had put her whole self into her big day, especially making it Muggle-friendly for her family. What had irked Lily then (and still) was the fact she would have done the same. It was this that made her decision, at least until, "I mean, wouldn't you do this for Petunia?"

Lily did not know and she did not care how Alison knew of Petunia, but the damage was done. She almost laughed at herself; the mere thought that she was just about to help Alison Baxter was now ridiculous. Possible acceptance was out the window. However, James' face turned stony, having noted her obvious irritation after he recovered from his almost-fall.

"_Lily." _He warned. At this, her blood turned cold, the same way one's would when they had been caught doing something wrong. She couldn't pick why this happened. James then stood to face Alison, standing eight inches shorter than her in due to those absurd shoes. He donned his most charming smile another time and replied, "We'll do it."

Alison must have thought it would be harder to convince them, given the eyebrow raise James then received. Lily didn't blame her for being so shocked. She had not expected to be saving her arch enemy from Azkaban when she woke up this morning. Nonetheless, Alison too smiled, self-satisfactorily, and nodded in gratitude before turning to leave.

"I'll owl you the details this afternoon." Lily finally regained control of her speech, sighting Alison walking out knowing that she had won,

"Just so we're clear, Alison," She too stood, ignoring how Alison stared down at her, and moved to appear as though she was walking a friend out. But this was far from a friendly gesture,"This is the last favour you will ask of us." By now, James had joined them, and the trio stood in the doorway, swapping glares hidden behind tight lips drawn into minute smiles. A pokerface, a Muggle would call it. Lily grabbed the door handle, so if one were to pass by, it would appear she was merely showing Alison out. But this gesture in fact stopped Alison from leaving,"I am growing wary of these little favours you ask of me. This shall be the _last _time that you can count on me to...uh..."help you out"."

As per usual, Alison showed no indication of astonishment at this term. She expected it, no doubt, in return for their statements, as part of this deal.

"Of course." she answered. Another fake smile."I will miss our little chats." Lily nodded and removed her hand from the doorknob, allowing Alison Baxter exit. Without another word, she stepped into the foyer and then disappeared with a loud _crack._ The remaining two stood in the doorway for some time, reflecting on what had just happened.

"I think we just signed a peace treaty, James."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

_Hello again. I know that it's a short chapter, but it's an important one nonetheless. 21 is shaping up to be pretty big for our favourite Quidditch player and publicist._

_Thank you so much for all your support, and remember that constructive criticism is always appreciated._

_Until next time,_

_-xSymnia_


	22. Don't Say

**CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Don't Say I Do Nothing for You**

* * *

**8:59 am. Day Two Hundred and Seventy of official employment. Current mood: flustered.**

* * *

It appeared that Lily had completely underestimated the sensationalism that Alison's Wizengamot hearing would generate across the wizarding media outlets. The black-tiled hallway outside Ministry courtroom three was in shambles. Journalists chattered away, compared notes, stole glances at each other's first drafts. Camera flickered from all angles, followed by many groans of disgust, for it was impossible to get that _one _scandalous shot they wanted so desperately. Exclusive-hunting reporters screeched and yelped as they fought one another and Ministry security guards to reach the doorway of the courtroom and the defence team. Much to her abhorrence, Lily had quickly understood she had been named a fully-fledged member of this team. The consequences of this association should the trial end badly were too ghastly to comprehend.

Truly, Lily hated the idea of lying to the Wizengamot. A year ago, the mere thought of it would have been offensive. Lily had led her life to the letter of the law, at least until recently. She had never served detention at Hogwarts. She _never_ would have thought to use magic in front of her Muggle family (although mostly just to spite Petunia's wishes, who dreamedto see her abilities revoked). And, at the ripe old age of nineteen, she had lost her Apparition licence, was dating a man who had been convicted of six drunk and disorderly charges and was making a false statement to the Wizengamot for her arch rival.

Lily was at a complete loss with herself, but James, on the other hand, had taken every detail of this minor catastrophe in his stride. He had thrown himself into his study of his statement with the same enthusiasm he normally reserved for Quidditch training. He was the one who encouraged Lily to do the same, until she threatened him with Transfiguration into a particularly ugly marine creature. Most of all, he relished the thought of Baxter owing him after this – something, Lily was sure; he would treasure for eternity.

The Wizengamot had arrived before Lily and James did, surely bored and headachy by now. They sat low in their chairs on the three-tiered stand on the opposite side of the court floor; taking up the entire gaze of whoever had the misfortune of sitting in the central throne, Lily remembered. Alison and Remus stood at the centre of the room, sharing whispers over the desk conjured for the defence attorney, their eyes darting back and forth between the Wizengamot and the equally-predatory media. Lily, sitting in the relative safety of the front row directly behind the defence, secretly hoped that headachiness of the prosecution would make the trial faster. She wanted to put as much distance between herself and this horrible place as quickly as possible. But she knew this was futile. No member of the Wizengamot nor member of the press would allow this trial to end without some sort of scandal. Given the severity of the charges (that Lily was risking her neck for, might she add), this trial had no hope of ending quickly and painlessly. Perhaps than all she could hope for was that she was no longer needed after today. Lily glanced away from the hoards of media representatives and looked toward James. He had his gaze firmly locked on the enemy, his lips drawn into a thin, straight line and his glasses high on the bridge of his nose to allow maximum analysis. She knew this expression well. James Potter's Game Face. He must have felt her staring, and he moved his gaze ever so slightly to Lily – one eye kept on the distrustful media – to send a hint of a smile. The clocks hit nine and the room gradually silenced. The anticipation for an explosive trial thickened the air.

"We, the Wizengamot and an audience which currently reaches the end of this corridor, are gathered here in courtroom three at nine o'clock, the twenty-sixth of May for the hearing of Mrs. Alison Baxter. This is our second day into the case of Ms. Bianca Nolles' serious violation of Section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlock's Statute of Secrecy. Today, we have myself, Bob Ogden, as chairperson and chief interrogator and Miss Evelyn Giles, senior administrator of the Ministry of Magic taking minutes. Mrs. Baxter has called upon Mr. Remus Lupin as her legal defence. It shall be noted that the Wizengamot requested separate hearings for the defendant and Mrs. Baxter." Bob Ogden resided in the topmost spot of the Wizengamot's stands, towering over the woman who sat somewhat defiantly in the throne beneath him. Alison was frighteningly still under Bob Ogden's gaze; legs crossed, hands clasped in her lap and an almost doll-like facade of innocence about her. She looked tiny in comparison to the Wizengamot, for the first time that Lily had seen her, somewhere that she may not be able to manipulate her way out of.

"Mrs. Baxter, you have been brought here today as a witness to Bianca Nolles' case. Is this correct?" Alison drew a deep, calming breath as if to compose herself before she answered the simple question.

"Yes." She agreed.

"Mrs. Baxter, you are also currently awaiting a formal hearing for your own transgression of Clause 45 of the Statute of Secrecy." Ogden lowered his gaze to the piece of parchment on the desk before him to clarify, "An avoidance of Muggle-Repelling Charms in a public area. Is this true?" This was met with a pause from the witness, quickly – hastily – filled by the scribbles of quills on parchment.

"Yes." Alison answered. Some of the Wizengamot exchanged glances. Surely this information was announced to make her less credible to the Wizengamot. Alison was as white as snow next to Lily and James! What would they say to two witnesses, both with prior convictions?

"You have also had two prior warnings regarding use of magic in front of a Muggle. The _same _Muggle, in fact, Miss Gemma Stern." Another long pause. Alison cast her eyes downwards briefly, garnering courage perhaps, to did herself further into the hole she was in at present. The cameramen had no hesitation to pick up and forever document this. She lifted her chin, again somewhat defiantly, to answer,

"Yes, I have." Bob Ogden sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, surveying Alison over the top of his spectacles. There was more movement in the benches around him, more whispers between members of the Wizengamot. Remus rose from the table he sat at on Alison's right.

"The defence would like to add that both these warnings were issued to my client when she was aged eleven, an age at which a young witch is not completely capable of controlling her magic. Furthermore, neither of these warnings were followed by official charges." In saying this, Remus removed the collective gaze of the room off Alison for just a moment. All but Lily. Alison, freed for just a moment from her doll-mask sighed a breath of relief, and glanced, only for a second, at Lily, and smiled, only with the very corners of her mouth, _not out of the woods yet. _And then, when this note had been added to the minutes and recorded by the Quick Quotes Quills and the gaze reinstated, the mask was on again.

"What is your testimony, Mrs. Baxter?" A new, female voice queried. Lily, too focused on Alison's evolving expressions, couldn't pinpoint which red-robed Wizengamot witch had asked this. Either Alison knew which witch it had been, or didn't care in the slightest, but this did not catch her off-guard the same way.

"I'm respectfully appealing the Wizengamot to reconsider their sentencing of Bianca Nolles." She stated clearly, and a little too loudly, to ensure that the press heard her every word, "In particular, their decision to erase Gemma Stern's memory."

The Wizengamot was not at all surprised by this, they had probably expected it. Knowing Alison Baxter, no case of hers' would go down without a fight. That was probably how she pinned down a court date so quickly; it wasn't her connections, it was because someone higher up the food chain had reserved it especially to see the fireworks. At least, that would be what Lily would do. But, while Evelyn Giles tapped away at her typewriter unperturbed and Bob Ogden flipped over the agenda he had been reading off, the press launched into a collective state of chaos. _Appeal? _Appeal? _What right does Alison Baxter have to subvert the Wiengamot's decision-making process? She's planning a takeover of the Ministry. _Accusations flew across the room; some directed at Alison, some at the Wizengamot, some at Lily and James, at Remus, at Gemma, and other press reps. Lily barely hid her smirk. Children, they were acting like. Bickering little children. This eased the tension of the courtroom a little, but the nerves remained. James' game face was cracking at the edges from his suppressed grin. Of course this had been the part he was waiting for. Complete chaos like his Quidditch matches; the fans, the enemies and the press coming together for the one event and fighting the whole journey.

Bob Ogden leaned forward in his chair once more, as many other Wizengamot members did, seemingly awoken from their boredom-induced daydreaming. He laughed, as though he hadn't expected this, "And I assume that the defence has some sort of evidence to support their appeal?" Remus drew himself to his full height and loudly announced,

"The defence calls Lily Evans to the floor."

She didn't know why her stomach dropped at the sound of her name being called. She had expected this, prepared for this, hadn't she? She didn't know why she shook so badly as she stood from the front row and moved towards the end of the barricade, grudgingly letting go of James' outstretched hand. She didn't know why the earth seemed to slow, and every camera flash sounded like a gunshot and looked like an explosion. Why, in Merlin's gracious name, was she nervous for _Alison Baxter's _trial? Alison had since vacated the chair at the centre of the room – a chair Lily dreaded returning to after her previous experience with the Wizengamot – and took a similar path to the refuge of the audience. Their heels clicked on the marble floor in tandem. Their arms brushed as they passed. Their gazes again locked upon each other for the smallest fraction of a second. _Tag. You're in. _Lily felt a chill rush up her spine as she tiptoed her way to the seat and collapsed into it, only vaguely aware of the innumerable white flashes around her. It must have been a decade past before a word was spoken,

"Miss Lily Evans..." Bob Ogden greeted with a sigh, like a principal would at an all-too familiar student, or a parent with an exasperating child, "I'm glad to say we haven't seen you in some time." And now, Lily truly felt the brunt of Bob Ogden's seemingly cheery ways. The sighs, the smiles, the laughter...it all seemed nice when you weren't the one sitting at his feet, a repeat offender. The ripple of giggles throughout the stands of the courtroom caused Lily's cheeks to redden. It wasn't out of embarrassment. Her Paris indiscretion was common knowledge and she accepted this fact. It was the sneer of the Wizengamot that sent blood rushing to her face, and the fact she couldn't bite back made her jaw tighten. Lily hadn't appreciated how brave James really was; to face this side of Bob Ogden with the carefree schoolboy smile she loved so. She only managed a slight nod to acknowledge this comment, because her clasped hands still shook and her stomach was lost somewhere down near her feet.

"And why have _you _been produced as evidence to this trial? You are not admitting to a second offence, are you?" Another patter of laughter, "Why is it that the Muggle's memory should not be erased?"

_Because I wanted to beat Alison at her own game_ was not an appropriate answer, as much as Lily wanted to say it. She copied Alison's deep, calming breath. Her nerves kicked into overdrive. Once she started this, there was no turning back. Only more lies could solve this one. Lily exhaled.

"I do not believe the Ministry deployment of Obliviators is a suitable choice for the case of Gemma Stern." Lily heard herself say, exactly as rehearsed. Her heart sure as hell wasn't in it, but surely this could not show to the audience? Bob Ogden raised an eyebrow, curious but unconvinced. So Lily continued, "At the time of Bianca Nolles' Disapparation, the Muggle in question, Gemma Stern, James and I were involved in deep conversation on the topic of Muggle sports. Neither Gemma nor I were aware of the Disapparation even taking place. I did not realise such an event had occurred until I heard of Bianca Nolles' arrest. Therefore, the removal of her memory would be unnecessary and emotionally damaging. We _all_ should have the right to remember out sisters' wedding." The final line made her blood boil. What were the chances of being invited to Petunia's wedding after that fiasco? But Lily fought to stop this from showing. Instead, she gauged the Wizengamot's reactions. They ranged from sceptical to amused to downright irritated. None were particularly uplifting.

"Please describe the event, Miss Evans." The voice that Lily couldn't pick before turned out to come from a tiny witch with very large, rounded eyes in the third row (most certainly employed as a human form of Veritaserum). Of course, she had been told to expect this during their study sessions, and so Lily took her cue from Remus' nod.

"All of the wedding guests were gathered inside the marquee for the bridal party's speeches. There were hundreds of people, many of whom I only knew by face, so we stuck to the people we _did _know, like Gemma. James and I were at the front, right beside the stage. Once the speeches finished and the crowd dispersed, we headed straight to Gemma. We were standing behind the stage, on the opposite end of the marquee to the bar and hidden from sight by the few hundred people. We must have talked for at least an hour and we didn't part ways until well after sundown." Lily recited this from memory, taking the correct pauses and breaks in speech to mimic recounting the event. Remus eyed her cautiously, furrowing his eyebrows as a cue for the final line, "Neither I nor Gemma saw or heard anything during this time, which I am told Bianca Nolles Disapparated during."

Again, the Wizengamot was varied in its reaction to her statement. Some nodded, as if taking her case into consideration. Many looked surly. The witch who asked this question widened her eyes with each supplemental sentence, becoming so off-putting that Lily had to drag her gaze back to Bob Ogden instead. She hoped to Merlin that she wasn't, in fact, the human equivalent to Veritaserum. Bob Ogden wasn't any more convinced than he had been before her statement. He sighed, leaning forward in his chair.

"I don't deny that you and Mr. Potter were in attendance of Mrs. Baxter's wedding, Miss Evans. Nor do I deny the fact that you spoke to the Muggle during the event. But I must ask why did you choose to stay by the stage after the speeches? Surely you would have wanted a refreshment in the hours spent conversing with the Muggle? The bar, of course, would have provided such refreshments." The world slowed again. Lily battled to stop her protest at this from showing.

"With so many people in attendance sir, getting lost in the crowd swarming to the bar was a very real possibility. James didn't want to interrupt his conversation with Gemma, seeing as they hadn't met for a long time and I wasn't interested in having someone spill butterbeer on my dress robes."

"So you went without any sort of drink the entire afternoon?"

"Well I wouldn't say the _entire _afternoon. The speeches werearound four o'clock, and we had had drinks before that."

"Alcoholic beverages?" Lily felt herself freeze, to match the pace that her world was turning on its head. How was _she_ meant to remember what she drank on one given afternoon nearly three months ago? That was an impossible question. Bob Ogden knew that was an impossible question. The Wizengamot surely knew. The media too. She glanced to her right, to catch Remus' eye, but realised he could not object. This was a legitimate question, no matter how impossible.

"I'm...I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't remember." She hated herself for stuttering, even when this was not even a lie on her part.

"You mean to say that you can remember the subject of your conversation with the Muggle, but cannot fathom what you drank? So Miss Evans, you also say that you _may _have been under the influence of alcohol during the reception?"

"I _may _have," she answered curtly, "but I doubt it."

"Why would you doubt it?" Ogden accused, before answering this himself, "It's a simple enough question, Miss Evans. Did you or did you not drink? And if you _did_ consume alcohol, this would have inhibited your ability to notice other events around you such as a Disapparation, don't you agree?" Lily felt her cheeks redden again, truly irritated by this line of questioning. Her fists clenched, her jaw ground her teeth. She could not – would not - hide her indignation. But she couldn't let Ogden get to her. The publicity penalties were far too exorbitant.

"I'm quite sure I would have heard a deafening _crack_ should one have occurred, sir. I was _not _that drunk." She spat, her words venomous to her own ears.

"So you are admitting that you _did_ have alcoholic beverages that afternoon, Miss Evans?"

"I...what?"

"And given that the Muggle in question is of _seventeen_ years of age and thus prohibited from drinking alcohol, could she have witnessed a Disapparation that you yourself could not have at the time?" Lily was utterly enraged at this point, speechless, yet Bob Ogden continued nonetheless, ignoring – or perhaps enjoying – her fury, "And considering that you were, and I quote_ "standing behind the stage, hidden from sight"_, you are also admitting that there is nobody beside yourself or Mr. Potter who could confirm this? You two were the _only_ accompaniment to the Muggle in question the entire afternoon."

She was sure that her face had flushed to the shade of her hair, or that steam was emitting from her ears like a Muggle cartoon, or that the world around her had actually crumbled to reveal the depths of hell. She saw red, could only hear the jeer in Ogden's tone, even Alison Baxter had been removed from her consciousness.

"Miss Evans, given your personal history with such offences, I must say that the Wizengamot is somewhat...distrustful...of your account. I hardly believe a woman who had her own Apparation licence revoked as a direct result of Disapparating in front of a Muggle is a sound witness to an appeal case. Please consider this in your future choice of witnesses, Mr. Lupin." He added, with a pointed glance at Remus. Lily's head snapped to the right again, to see Remus glowering daggers at the man atop the Wizengamot pyramid. Without waiting for any sort of reply, content in his arrogant air of superiority in his courtroom-slash-personal cell of hell, Ogden motioned for Lily to stand, "Thank you Miss Evans, you may return to your seat. Mr. Lupin, is that all the evidence the defence has?"

Remus must have been better at snapping out of his contained rage; before Lily knew it she was again seated in the relative sanctuary of the audience to spy James in her vacated seat. He had an air of absolute tranquillity and charm about him, sharing a secret smile with Bob Ogden.

"And today, a double feature." Ogden remarked, retaining the light-hearted banter with the sinister, cutting edge, "Mr. James Potter, a fellow convictee of this court." James leaned back in the throne, a wide smile.

"I can't keep away." He admitted, to the laughter of the courtroom. Only now did Lily truly awake once more, to find herself at the centre of a comedy. How in Merlin's name could tension so thick it could be cut with a knife relieve itself within seconds of James Potter strutting into the spotlight? How did a serious appeal case transform into this hysteria? These two were not a judge and convicted; they were a bloody comedy duo. But she soon felt the gaze of the media prick her neck, and allowed her lips to twitch upwards good-naturedly, as if she could relax now that her argument with Ogden had been settled.

"Mr. Potter, surely you can understand the Wizengamot's decision to remove the Muggle's memory. Why should this case be any different?" James cocked his head to the side, a display of innocence, before sitting up a little straighter in his chair to answer properly,

"With all due respect to the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Warlocks, I don't think removing Gemma's memory is the best tactic, if you will." Ogden appeared suitably intrigued.

"And why is that?"

"Well, what would it achieve? Gemma certainly didn't see the Disapparation. You know as well as I Muggles tend to be quite stupid when it comes to the simple explanation of something being present one moment and not the next." More laughter, "She would lose her memory of her sister's wedding, she would forget my attempts to understand the pitiful exercises Muggles mistakenly call "sport". Bianca Nolles wouldn't care in the slightest if her memory was erased or not, so it's not going to prevent her from doing it again. If the Wizengamot is looking to prevent a repeat offence, then the punishment needs to really affect the person. Now _I'm _living proof of that."

At this, even the devil himself broke into a grin. Cameras lit up the courtroom once more. Lily heard several female voices express their love for James Potter's witting persona; he was still an idiot who clearly didn't care about his own team...but then again, he did it because he had a good heart and clearly loved his girlfriend. Ha. Lily couldn't believe it. She couldn't believe it had worked! James had managed to completely subvert the room's atmosphere by taking upon the role as the court jester, the comic relief. This was Remus' genius, his final gambit for the appeal. He had conjured up someone who could bring the court – or at least the media – to their side.

"While Gemma and Lily were banging on about some Muggle sport; I was standing directly in the view of the bar. Not that it mattered, because there were hundreds of others doing the exact same. And I know for a fact that they didn't serve any alcohol before the reception, having discovered this earlier when I got us some drinks. Having had not one drink that night, I still didn't see or hear Bianca Nolles Disapparate." Lily could have cheered at his statement, for it rendered even Ogden without a snarky remark.

"Well then, while your interpretations of the effectiveness of this court are directed at the wrong department, Mr. Potter, the Wizengamot has no further questions for you. You may step down." James left the seat with the biggest, carefree grin usually spied after he won an important Quidditch match, to an applause which would rival such a situation. Lily scoffed as he strode his way back to his seat, with the demeanour of one who just won a very prestigious award, or who had just been crowned king of the universe. (Was applause in a courtroom even socially acceptable?)

James lowered himself onto the front row bench, his expression never wavering, clearly proud of himself. Lily resisted the urge to admit that he should be, or she would never hear the end of it. As the court returned to a state of semi-normality and Remus reintroduced Alison to the Wizengamot, James leaned in close to Lily's, to whisper in her ear congratulations, or something as sweet...

"Not that this is a competition or anything, but I think I've taken out the title of Best Witness of the Year."

* * *

It was actually rather amazing how quickly courtroom three could be vacated, given the number of people inside. The Wizengamot converged in a wave of scarlet at the exit on the opposite side of the courtroom, which Lily quickly realised to be a shortcut to a nearby coffee vendor. Many members of the press, now armed with detailed notes and wonderful shots of the hearing, Disapparated away the moment the gavel sounded, a little overexcited to meet their deadlines. A select few remained, mostly for a short photo session and exclusive post-trial interview, but too left rather quickly. The somewhat anti-climatic conclusion to the long-awaited trial gave little reason for any such interview. No scandalous verdict meant the journalists had to rely on their notes for controversy this time. James' swipe at the Wizengamot would surely be headlining tomorrow.

But Lily was glad for the outcome. She was too exhausted bear the media frenzy that would be waiting when the final verdict was given. At least this gave her a chance to breathe before the hysteria really began. Nonetheless, her involvement was now over, and for that she was thankful. The corridor outside courtroom three, previously packed to breaking point, was now abandoned, eerie in contrast. Lily strode out with James' arms around her and the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders. Remus led the trio to the elevators, visibly genial that his case – although it had a bumpy start – had pulled off. He was more youthful than Lily had ever seen him, more animated and schoolboy-like than she thought he ever could be. Suddenly, his friendship with James became all the more clear.

"I reckon a drink is in order." James proposed, upon reaching the end of the hallway and Remus tapped the lift button, "Fancy a celebratory Firewhiskey?" He added, gazing down at the woman pinned to his side. Lily stared up into James' eyes, her heart fluttering at the familiar sparkle she found there. She chuckled, her voice light and free,

"I think that's a wonderful idea." She agreed. The lift descended before them, and the doors opened. Going to enter, Lily found herself face to face with another woman who ranked only just underneath Alison Baxter on the list of people she did not want to ever see. Bianca Nolles didn't even acknowledge her as she stepped past, strutting down the black tiled corridor like a woman on a mission. Lily made her decision before she even realised it.

"I'll meet you upstairs." She told James, removing herself from his grasp and slipping outside the lift as the door closed. Almost cursing herself for even putting herself in this situation, Lily stalked after Bianca Nolles, her ridiculously-high heels clattering on the tiled floor at an increasing rate. Bianca's long black curls brushed from left to right in time with her pace, not a hair falling out of place as Lily raced after her, her own locks flying. "Hey!" She called, to no avail. Bianca didn't break her stride as Lily clambered to catch up. Her second call, slightly louder and many times more threatening, managed to garner the attention of the woman who got her into this mess in the first place. It seemed that Bianca Nolles _had _recognisedher before; given the self-satisfied smile she wore when she finally turned to face Lily. Although, as Lily had never actually seen any other expression but this ever grace her squashed face, this may not have proved anything at all.

"Well if it isn't Lily Evans." Bianca commented by way of greeting as Lily approached, "I heard you're now representing Alison Baxter." She said this as if it were a joke, although Lily would hate to admit she somewhat agreed to this. Bianca watched Lily advance toward her, daring her to step closer, "I must say, I didn't see _that _one coming. Not after my article..." Lily smiled in response, knowing that its forced nature was obvious. She wondered if one could pick up sarcasm from such a gesture. But Bianca seemed to know anyway. Perhaps she could sense it when Lily stood toe-to-toe with her and didn't hesitate to invade her personal space.

"Between you and me, you don't have to manipulate people to get what you want. A simple favour may suffice." She didn't have a chance to gauge Bianca's reaction as she had with the Wizengamot. A thunderous _crash_ sounded from down the hall, causing both women to jump in fright. A robed member of the Wizengamot, one that Lily did not recognise, turned left from courtroom six and made his way toward Bianca and Lily at a snail's pace, his face buried in some document. And, almost by mutual agreement, both women simultaneously stepped forward, continuing their conversation in snide whispers as they paced the length of the hallway.

"Well, it is always nice to have a few favours owed to you; you never know when you'll need them." Bianca pointed, casting furtive glances at the advancing wizard. Lily kept her chin lifted, staring straight ahead.

"I would agree, Bianca." Lily replied, instinctively drawing a breath as the wizard passed, as if to make herself as invisible as possible. She paused until he was a few metres behind them. "But for future reference, I don't make deals without first being consented." Bianca pursed her lips, maybe knowing that she had been caught. Internally, Lily smirked. Did Bianca honestly think she could get away with pulling one over her? Had she thought that Lily would happily go about owing her an exclusive report at any given point in the future? Bianca leapt away from Lily as if she had been burned, or perhaps just taking advantage of their restored privacy, now that the wizard had entered the lift. She flicked back her hair with an overly dramatic air.

"Of course, Lily. I will always be sure to ask nicely in the future." She replied, her voice as velvety as the tasteless purple robes she wore. They remained there in the hallway for some time, sizing each other up. Then, Lily too stepped back. She had made her point clear.

"Be sure that you do." And with that, Lily turned her back on Bianca and marched her way back down the monochrome corridor, head held high.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: **_I do not own Harry Potter._

___I am sincerely very, very sorry for the months-long wait for this chapter. I know that I've said this in the past few chapters, and I cannot express my gratitude for you, the readers, for not only staying and continuing to read, favourite and alert this, but continuing to support this story. Simply put, my sporting commitments and school led to no time to write, and when these ended, writing became extremely hard to do._

_Once again, thank you so much for your continued support throughout _Only Human._  
_

_Until next time,_

_-xSymnia_


	23. The Grand Final

**CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: The Grand Final**

* * *

**1:10 pm. Day Three Hundred of Official Employment. Current mood: famished.**

* * *

Lunch hour. When the ambient noise was doubled, the wait for service trebled, and the china-smashing rate ten times above norm. Lily had never understood Izzy Skeptor's ardour for booking the most chaotic of restaurants, particularly on a day the both of them had completely free. Perhaps she just relished the superiority of being a spectator, or maybe she enjoyed the adrenaline rush of a floating latte due almost crashing into a stack of dirty plates overhead. They were seated at the centre of a bustling Diagon Alley restaurant at the pinnacle of rush hour on a particularly tense Friday afternoon. Of course, it was the biggest weekend of the Quidditch calendar. The Grand Final loomed right around the corner, and Izzy Skeptor had seen it fit to treat herself and her darling protégé to a nice lunch and relaxing coffee before the career-testing day arrived. But if only a catch up with Izzy Skeptor could be calming.

"...and I so I eventually relented and told her _exactly_ who I worked for, and she just gazed at me as if she had been Stupefied! It amazes me that anyone, could never have heard of Rancorn – for Merlin's sake, it's only the biggest publicity firm in Britain – especially since Alison Baxter! Whom, might I add, was just delighted to smear the name of Harvey Rancorn _and myself_ in the process - did you know I lost _three _clients after _Rumours! _published that I was her mentor?! – and I thought you snogging that Chaser would be the end of my career! But – where was I – this ridiculous receptionist proceeded to ask if I had the credentials! That was the last straw! I was going to give her a piece of my mind, _but_ I composed myself, and continued on. There was no use in getting my wand in a knot over someone who was just not worth it. _So_ my box is now on the Harpie side of the stadium, as much as I despise to admit this. I trust that _you _didn't have so much trouble snagging a box Lily..."

Only catching at the final threads of Izzy's response to a seemingly innocent question, Lily dragged her attention away from the flying cutlery overhead to reply, "I have prime seats just below the Top Box on the Puddlemere side. Apparently it has one of the best views of the game."

It wasn't that Lily didn't like Izzy. She was grateful for her mentor and that lunch - nearly a year ago now – when Izzy had first suggested that she apply for the job as James' publicist/manager/nanny. Back when Lily had her eyes on the Hall of Fame and her heart set on taking the industry by storm. Izzy had been there from the moment Lily left Hogwarts, and, regretfully, had been there through every drama since. She had been as much involved in the war with Alison Baxter as Lily was, yet she hadn't seemed to care for her "darling protégé" and friend beyond the superficiality of Quidditch seats the entire time. But this was a cutthroat industry, and perhaps Lily shouldn't have expected more, given that it was the domain of people like Alison Baxter.

Even someone with as little knowledge of the Quidditch fan calendar as Lily could recognise the significance of the Grand Final. If Lily had thought the Christmas charity match had been over the top, the June Grand Final was beyond her wildest dreams. Those who had grown up with an obsession for Quidditch treated the League Cup as the appetiser to the World Cup, a match Lily was glad to have no professional obligations to attend. Its outcome, in terms of its excitement, was rumoured to predict that of the World Cup. It decided who would be cut from teams, who would be transferred to a team with more prestige or perhaps more money, and who would be the new captain. But frankly, the League Cup just reminded Lily of the Muggle Olympics; overfunded, overpriced, overpublicised and more than a little underwhelming. But for James and therefore herself, it was the more important day of the year. Lucky she had come to grow a hint of an interest in Quidditch then!

Apparently, Izzy had long become accustomed to Lily's short answers, "Of course, of course, I expected nothing less, I doubt Alison Baxter will be in attendance anyway. They're not happy with her, not at all. I would ask what she expected, concocting up a plan like that to earn a few Galleons, but I think I'd know the answer anyway. She's a terrible woman, I'll tell you Lily. The Statute is not something to be messed with, and now she has gone and ruined it for the entire countr-" but suddenly, something piqued Lily's interest.

"_Concocting a plan for a few Galleons_?" She repeated, now unaware of table four's latte smashing into the wall behind her. Izzy looked torn between superiority and shame. Was this something she had not meant to say? Inside knowledge, maybe? And then it hit her. Why had she not thought of this sooner? Izzy must have known everything about Alison and her trial through work! She must be able to predict its outcome, or know it. Izzy sighed dramatically, as if in resignation, but Lily could tell she was enjoying being able to gossip about Alison with someone who actually cared. She leaned across the table and Lily followed suit, sharing in the secret together.

"Well, there's been talk that Alison intended to make a scandal out of her wedding – a deal with _Witch Weekly _to sell more copies. But if that's true, it's certainly backfired on her! There's new stories and rumours about her trial everyday, fabulous for the magazine, terrible for her. The Wizengamot certainly aren't pleased with her event in the first place, and they see her as equally responsible as that _Rumours! _girl for the whole thing. Might I add that the public are the same – they want Alison's head for this. They're both getting their licences taken, you know, maybe a year or two or even permanently. The public won't accept anything less, but I think the Muggle girl loses her memory anyway. They won't let that one slide, I'll tell you Lily. Not for you, not for anyone. Oh don't look so shocked my dear, they were going to do it anyway, that appeal of yours only strengthened their resolve! Speaking of which, the Queen's Garden are being closed until further notice – _that's_ what everyone is so hung up about. It was the last Muggle and magical-friendly places around. Well it's going to an absolute nightmare, I'll tell you that. The media are having a ball with it! I wouldn't be surprised if they have to start bringing in bi-weekly publications of _Witch Weekly_, given the profit they'll receive!" Izzy drew a breath, clearly exhilarated by being free to say all these things that were likely under lock and key. And so, she continued, "But it's very serious, what Alison did. No one from our industry wants to have anything to do with her now. She's too toxic, as dear Harvey puts it. _I_ think she's more like an Unforgivable Curse, but that's just my opinion coming from working with the woman for many, many months now - I can't believe a mentored such a person! Thank Merlin that _you_ didn't turn out that way or I'd be finished! Well, Alison's definitely guaranteed something as long as her court case and the debate over the legislation regarding Queens' Garden remains in the headlines…but as for a job - at least with Harvey or any of his associates or in Britain - she's not going anywhere."

Izzy's response left Lily gaping. She opened and closed her mouth mutely as she sat back into the dining chair, processing this. Alison, her arch enemy, her rival in career and, in the public's eyes at least, love…finished? And now the woman who tried to destroy both her, to destroy James, had lost nearly everything. Lily felt numb. Was this pity? Or shock? Or had she actually grown to _care_ for her rival? But she had won, of course. This was over. Alison had agreed to leave her and James alone as long as she stood as a witness. It was done and dusted, over. Their war was _over_, yet Lily still felt like she was standing in the middle of the battleground, wands blazing. She didn't know what to feel, torn between pity and pride. Meanwhile, Izzy was watching her closely, as to gauge her reaction, but Lily couldn't care less what she thought of this. She didn't know what she thought of this situation herself.

Two plates floated down onto their table, breaking her inner battle for just a moment to eye Izzy. And for the first time that Lily could remember, Izzy smiled – really smiled – at her. A knowing, mentorish smile.

"It's a tough life with a tougher and, frankly, a rather impatient and annoying crowd. But that's exactly what we do Lily." Izzy fiddled with her napkin, trying to extricate it from the holder without breaking her gaze across the table, "You know that I _did_ nominate you for the Hall of Fame, I wasn't kidding about that. I'm sure that you thought I was. But you know Lily, you are tough, and knowledgeable. You took down Alison Baxter - certainly that would earn you an award at least! – but they refused your application! The _nerve_! I wanted a personal conference, but they just ignored me and-" Having removed her fork and gone to take the first bite of her lunch, Izzy stopped short as she gazed at her plate.

"_Dragon meat?!" _She shrieked, staring first at the plate and then Lily, shocked, scandalised, terrified and more than a little revolted. She glanced around the restaurant, looking for a manager. People began to stop their conversations and stare back.

Lily couldn't help but giggle.

* * *

**11:27 am. Day Three Hundred and Two of official employment. Current mood: bemused.**

* * *

Bright lights, camera flashes and rude journalists: Lily had forgotten the nastier points to the bigger Quidditch events of the season.

Standing outside the VIP entrance to Hollyhead Stadium, Lily couldn't help but smirk as she watched the hysteria taking place on the purple carpet before her. It had been laid out from the ticket entrance to the doorway of the changerooms, on either side of side of which fences had been erected to push back the crowd of Harpie and Puddlemere fans, journalists and cameramen, pushing and grabbing at each other to get to the front. The inside was no less chaotic. In the absence of Bianca Nolles, another _Rumours! _journalist was about to come to blows with a commentator from _Quidditch Today_ over a supposed exclusive interview with Gwenog Jones, captain of the Harpies. Yet, strangely enough, Jones was nowhere to be seen, and _Rumours! _Girl was fuming while the lad from _Quidditch Today _was threatening the head of security with a violation of freedom of information and accusing him of a cover-up.

Of course, both the Harpie and Puddlemere teams had arrived long before, to warm up for the grandest game of the year. But Lily had decided to forego the traditional Puddlemere over-masculine pep talk and drinks with fellow Puddlemere "VIPs" in favour of an extra-large double-strength skim mocha cappuccino and some reading before stepping out into the onslaught of cameras and media people who had no concept of the term "privacy". But thankfully, it appeared that she was no longer priority number one. Marvel's, the Puddlemere Seeker's, fiancée had been discovered to be pregnant only a week ago, and this was her first public appearance since the reveal. All eyes were now on Regina and her swelling belly; much too interesting to pass up for the Captain's partner, who had gone underground since the appeal at the Ministry of Magic. And so, Lily revelled in the relative calm of being an outsider for once again, gazing over the purple carpet as one of the journalists almost, hungry for the next catastrophe.

"Funny, I was led to believe they had split up." A voice broke Lily's thought process and musing, and Lily hadn't realised the woman she stood beside was still there. She practically blended into the stadium wall, dressed in midnight blue robes. She had been there before Lily had, studying the personalities walking up and down the carpet, posing for photographs and answering questions. Lily eyed her gown, admiring its similarity to the Puddlemere colours and feeling slightly guilty for not doing the same before she realised who had spoken.

Alison had fully intended to remained unnoticed today. She barely looked like herself. If wearing Puddlemere colours were not enough to throw the dogs prowling the carpet off her scent, the new chocolate-brown haircut - short and straight – combined with her unusual slouched posture and lack of heels would have stunned even the person with the best memory of others. Only that unmistakeable false smile pasted on top of an otherwise stern expression – something Lily had grown to know too well – hinted at her identity.

"_Alison?_ What are you doing here?" This question was a no-brainer, but Lily was too stunned to see Alison out in the public eye to develop a more serious line of enquiry. If they – the public - were out for her neck as Izzy had suggested, Lily would never have taken the chance with the media at an event like this. The effect of her presence alone would have frightened even the most fame-hungry person out of this idea, and in Alison's state, she was just looking for trouble. The idea that she was here to throw off James immediately crossed Lily's mind – she was sure as hell not going to let that happen, too much rode on today's game – but it passed just as quickly. If Alison wanted to make a splash, she would have done it already. The sheer fact that she stood beside Lily, off the purple carpet and in a disguise spoke volumes of her intentions.

Alison chuckled as _Rumours! _Girl was led off by two burly security wizards by both arms.

"I'm a Quidditch girl through and through, Lily. I wouldn't miss this game for the world." Ironic. If Alison were discovered, she might have had to choose. This would have been the perfect moment to announce Alison's presence to the journalists, scream out a sighting and make a break for it, throwing her to the wolves. But Lily refused to play Alison's game any longer. She had won now, fair and square. She was tired of this stupid, childish competition. She was tired of Alison.

"Where's Philippe?" The purple carpet, the camera flashes, the screams and shouts, they seemed to be separated by a wall of glass. Right now, the magical world as a whole seemed a universe away. Her problems with Alison seemed to occur a millennium ago. Right now, they could have been two Muggle girls, waiting outside a cinema for their respective partners.

In another life, perhaps. If Alison weren't such a complete cow.

"Somewhere…" Alison sighed, crossing her arms tighter as the camera flashes gained in intensity and number as the Minister arrived, "He really only came today to bring me here."

Lily turned her gaze to Alison. So it was true, her losing her licence. Alison seemed to read her mind.

"Three years. How long I lost my Apparation licence for. Same as Bianca Nolles." Lily nodded, as though this were the first time she was hearing of this. But Alison continued, "Gemma lost her memory. Part of it at least. I can't see her as long as I've lost my licence." Alison's musing were more to herself than Lily, and Lily couldn't offer a helpful reply. Three years without Petunia and her awful excuse for a fiancé would be a miracle.

"You could always take a train." She replied monotonically, now locking eyes with Alison, following her lead in leaning against the wall painted in Puddlemere blue and gold. Alison shook her head, emphasising her new hairstyle (which would have looked nice on anyone else, but on Alison it was reminiscent of a prison shave).

"No, you don't understand. I _can't _see her…"Alison swallowed awkwardly, guiltily, "They won't let me." Lily narrowed her eyes, detecting accusation in Alison's tone. She had never been more insulted.

"And you're blaming _me _for that?!_"_ she snapped, utterly incredulous. How _dare_ she? After everything that Lily did, even against her better judgement, for Alison, she still dealt the blame on her favourite scapegoat! Lily prepared to turn and walk away, but then Alison shook her head furtively, almost apologetically. She seemed genuinely abashed by such a concept.

"No! I'm not! I just thought you would understand, with your own….indiscretion." It took some time for Lily to comprehend what Alison meant before it came to her. Tristan Sterling, the Muggle she had Disapparated in front of in Paris. But she had only met him that night, it didn't matter in the slightest that she would never see him again, it was almost a bles- _of course. _The exact circumstances of her Disapparation had never been revealed to anyone, not even James or Remus Lupin, least of all Alison. Of course Alison had assumed that she actually knew him, had a proper connection to him, and had tried to protect him by saying nothing during her trial, just as she had tried to protect her sister. And Lily would let her believe that. She would let everyone believe that. It was better than the truth. And she began to understand Alison a little more.

The crowd on the carpet began to dwindle – the game was about to start. Alison pushed herself off from the wall and turned to face Lily. She smiled, a hint closer to a natural smile than Lily had ever seen grace her face. After a moment of deliberation, she held out her hand. Lily couldn't help but note the giant rock on her ring finger and be reminded of the terrible wedding that caused all of this.

"My money's on James today." Lily continued to study her outstretched hand, then moved her focus back to Alison's eyes, then the hand again. She took it, shook it.

"So is mine." She replied with a smile.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Harry Potter._**

**_I apologise profusely for my absence. School got a little...insane. Merry Christmas!_**

**_Until next time,_**

**_-xSymnia_**


	24. When All is Said

**EPILOGUE: When All is Said and Done**

* * *

**7:45 am. Day Three Hundred and Three of official employment. Current mood: content.**

* * *

The celebrations lasted until 4am after Puddlemere's second consecutive League Cup win. James would have to admit, it was a close match – Gwenog Jones was practically steaming at the ears when he scored that final goal past her, pushing Puddlemere over the 150 point surplus to win - but he had _always _known that they would win. The expression on Alison Baxter's face at the Harpie defeat proved to be the best part of the day. A mix of resignation and indignation; something he had never seen before on her. It looked good. This battle was over, but surely she would fight again. Next time, another enemy.

In private, Lily may admit Quidditch had become a somewhat exhilarating pastime for her, only enhanced by sharing it with James. There was something about the hype of an upcoming match that captured her. And the adrenaline rush of watching James steal the quaffle. The euphoria of Puddlemere securing the Snitch. The victory celebrations. However, she did have yet to attempt flight on a broomstick – having sworn off it since a terrible incident during her first year at Hogwarts . Though, in baby steps perhaps, she may get there eventually. James was certainly eager to help her try, but she wasn't quite sure how much of his laughter she could take without hitting him.

Lily snuggled deeper into James' shoulder, utterly drained from their all-nighter. The morning sun gleamed through the window behind and warmed their backs, reminding Lily of her endless days curled up in bed, jobless and seemingly hopeless. Only a year ago. How much had changed since then?

She kicked her legs up onto the lounge and tucked them underneath her. That was better. James snaked his arm around her, pulling her closer toward him. He fingered the stray locks of red tumbling across her shoulders absentmindedly, kissed her forehead tenderly. Lily did not want to move from this position. It seemed that James too was finally feeling the effects of the adrenaline comedown, but his happy demeanour maintained. The second League Cup in a row - Puddlemere hadn't achieved this since the time of his father. Clearly, it was the Potter influence. He reckoned that they could reach three in a row…

"Think it's possible for a third time lucky?" Lily mumbled, her words slurring slightly in fatigue and muffled by his Puddlemere jersey. How _did_ she do that, read his mind so deftly? True, a publicist should be able to anticipate their client's actions and reactions, but Lily's psychic ability took this to a whole new level. He could never pass something under her nose. He laughed softly and slid down the couch, tilting his head to rest on top of Lily's.

"As long as bloody Marvel doesn't injure his arm again." He considered. They both were silent for some time, merely enjoying each other's company and warmth of the sun and their bodies. James could feel fatigue setting in; his exterior limbs began to numb in the comfort of Lily beside him on the lounge. Now, _this_ he was what he loved almost as much as Quidditch. Now _this _he could enjoy forever. Now this…..

Then Lily shifted again and muttered something unintelligible into his shoulder, jolting James fully awake.

"What?" He asked, a little sharper than he had intended to. He moved his head and leant down to hear her better. Lily helped by placing her cheek on his shoulder, allowing for proper vocalising.

"I said I've been thinking a lot about this job." She repeated softly. She moved to sit up, crossing her legs and looking at him directly in the eye, "I can't do this anymore."

Her words shot his heart straight to his throat. The air left him completely at the suddenness of this statement. He searched her face for a single hint of banter. But Lily's expression was as solemn as her tone. She wasn't joking at all.

"Oh. I see." James followed Lily's lead and sat up a little straighter – the haze of last night's celebrations, fatigue and the sudden change in air pressure making his head fuzzy. He blinked a few times and adjusted his glasses, comprehending this. _This job….I can't do this anymore. _Initially, privately, he felt fear. Where did this leave them? Was this a break up? He looked to Lily, still stony-faced. What was happening? Again, Lily broke into his thought process.

"No, no, no! It's not you, James. I love you." She assured, clearly realising the ambiguity of her words. She shuffled across the couch to touch his shoulder as to express her feelings. She tossed her scarlet hair over her shoulder and smiled – but cheerlessly, unsurely, "It's just…I don't know what constitutes as my work or my own feelings anymore with you. With the media around every corner and this whole catastrophe with Alison, I-I don't know how long I can keep this up, this…uncertainty." Lily's gaze fell down to the couch, almost embarrassed. "I'm just sick of the media delving into everything I do as an act as your girlfriend rather than as a publicist. I need to get away from something so…individual. I need something more…normal." James was puzzled.

"So what will you do instead? Still Quidditch?" That was optimistic. "Are you even going to be a PR?" Lily kept her head down, the locks of red framing her downcast eyes. She sighed.

"Oh, I don't know James. I mean, I enjoy PR, I love being around Quidditch and it pays well, but…" she raised her chin now, to catch James' eye with her own. Her smile widened, suddenly vivacious. "your coach's offer to manage the Puddlemere team instead is something I couldn't refuse."

And all abruptly became clear to James. An act. She just pulled a bloody stunt on him! James put on a look of shock and exaggerated irritation, before launching himself across the couch to trap Lily beneath him.

"Bloody hell Lily! You had me worried!" He scolded, although his laughter negated any sort of real annoyance in his voice. Lily giggled, pleased with her ploy and one-upping of her boyfriend. James shook his head in amazement – how could he have fallen for that? Lily enjoyed this far too much to have seriously considered giving up – and leant down to kiss her.

What Lily had said was true. Between James and Alison and Izzy and the Wizengamot and Quidditch and the media, nothing in her life was even in the vicinity of "normal". She wanted normal, but she was never going to be normal – receiving a letter from a strange magical school at age eleven shot that concept down immediately. Who was she kidding? She didn't have a "normal" career, or a "normal" boyfriend. Even her coffee order was met with raised eyebrows from the baristas in most coffee shops! As the go-between of the media and the wizarding world's largest – and most followed - sport, this job – this life - it could never be normal.

She and James were never going to be normal, not after Alison and this crazy thing called Quidditch. It wasn't human to be.

But, when all is said and done, and despite what she would tell James on some of her more stressful days, Lily wouldn't have it any other way.

**_-Fin-_**

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: _I do not own Harry Potter. _**

**_And there you have it, folks!_**

**_Thank you to every single person who read, alerted, favourited, reviewed and provided all this support for this fic! It has been so wonderful to write, and I do apologise for the terrible updating schedule._**

**_You have no idea how much it means to me to have such a network of ongoing support, and I cannot thank you enough!_**

**_I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it._**

**_Until next time,_**

**_-xSymnia_**


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